


Find A Way

by Moonscar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avenger family, Baking, Blood, Cooking, Family Dinners, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, School Shootings, Shock, Stress Baking, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:23:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17937149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonscar/pseuds/Moonscar
Summary: "This is not a drill. Warning, This is not a drill. There is a school shooter in the building." The principal called out, his voice seemingly calm and kept together, but the slight tremor in her voice would beg to defer.Peter felt his body slow to a halt as he heard this news. People would describe this as feeling as though their blood had run cold, but Peter felt his blood suddenly grow hot. His blood running through his veins quicker as his heart pumped quicker.  The principals words weren't what settled the fear in him, it was the similar spike in adrenaline. The same one he felt whenever he was fighting someone, whenever he put his life on the line."I repeat, this is not a drill, there is a school shooter in the building, this is n-" And then there was a clattering sound, seemingly of the principals phone hitting the desk, her voice suddenly further away until there was a loud, clear bang that rung out.





	1. Where The Journey Begins

Peter groaned loudly as he plumped down on the kitchen stool, a pout on his lips as he glared down at his revision papers for his English class. 

"I hate English" He grumbled. Sam glanced over at him from the stove and raised a brow before turning back to the french toast he was making, humming slightly in acknowledgement.

"Got an exam today?" Steve questioned, and now it was Peter's turn to raise a brow, glancing over at Steve who sat a few stools away from him, his hair wet from his after-run shower.

"How did you know?" He asked, joking suspicion under-lying in his tone. Steve smiled at him and let out a conspicuous hum as he lifted his glass of orange juice, sipping at it.

"You always say you hate a subject before you have an exam" He answered simply. Peter nodded slightly, not really knowing what to answer to that, just as he went to go back to his notes, a plate packed with french toast and some eggs was sliding towards him. Peter scrambled to halt it's movement before it went tumbling to the ground.

"Put those notes down, you know there's no studying at the table" Sam said, nodding to himself as he turned to pack up more plates for the rest of their team mates. 

"Isn't that rule for when we eat dinner?" Peter asked, but none-the-less pushed his revision notes to the side before picking up a fork to start eating, his french toast already drowned in maple syrup and powdered sugar. Just as Sam opened his mouth to reply, Natasha walked inside of the kitchen and cut him off.

"It is, but you wouldn't want to dirty your papers, now would you?" She asked as she picked up her own plate, thanking Sam on reflex before going towards the living room to sit at the couch. Peter shrugged slightly

"I suppose not" He answered noncommittally before shoveling the food in his mouth. The next few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence, more Avengers trickling inside and starting to eat, but no one really payed them any mind except for the usual greetings and sleepy grumbles. Tony entered with a wave of his hand, booking it towards the coffee machine, as he does every morning. Peter sent him a fleeting glance, noticing that the bags under his eyes had become less prominent, showing Peter that he had gotten enough hours of sleep the night before. Peter's lips twitched up at that, glad that his mentor was taking better care of himself.

Even if he was still drinking to much caffeine for his own good.

A few minutes passed before Peter's phone dinged loudly all of a sudden, signaling him that he should be walking to school now. Peter picked up the pace and ate up the last bites of his food before swirling the stool around and hopping off of it, snagging his notes from the counter and shoving them in his back pack that lay next to the stool. He slung it over his shoulder and picked up his plate and shoved it inside the washing machine.

"Thanks for the breakfast Sam! Steve, Nat, tell Clint and Buck I said hi when they return from their mission!" Peter called out, earning a couple chuckles and casual reassurances that they would. Peter grinned and waved at them before rushing towards the elevator so he could book it to school, even though it really wasn't needed since he had made it so he got to school at 7:30. 

He hopes he does well on his exam.

Peter let out a sigh as he exited he bathroom, wiping his wet hands on his over-sized hoodie, because really, who has time for those hand dryers? Certainly not him, since he has an exam to get back to as soon as possible. Peter shoved his hands in his pockets after wards, instinctual walking back towards his classroom without thinking about where he was going. 

It always felt weird to walk down the hallways and through out the school while classes were running, because there wasn't the usual chatter, the sound of screaming students, or of classmates running to get to their class at the other end of the school. No one in sight except for a few students of teachers walking by.

He had been walking down the hallway when suddenly a loud ding rung through out the hallways, signaling a message from the principal was about to be to be released. Peter simply assumed it would be one of those names that they called out into the school to go to the principals office, or a warning that a club that day had been cancelled.

"This is not a drill. Warning, This is not a drill. There is a school shooter in the building." The principal called out, his voice seemingly calm and kept together, but the slight tremor in her voice would beg to defer. 

Peter felt his body slow to a halt as he heard this news. People would describe this as feeling as though their blood had run cold, but Peter felt his blood suddenly grow hot. His blood running through his veins quicker as his heart pumped quicker.  The principals words weren't what settled the fear in him, it was the similar spike in adrenaline. The same one he felt whenever he was fighting someone, whenever he put his life on the line. 

"I repeat, this is not a drill, there is a school shooter in the building, this is n-" And then there was a clattering sound, seemingly of the principals phone hitting the desk, her voice suddenly further away until there was a loud, clear bang that rung out. 

Peter could hear the shrill screeches of the kids to the classroom next the him, the sudden cries and begs for mercy.

The few student that are panicking are screaming for mercy from a person that isn't even there, not only that, but from a person that had deliberately come in to shoot up the school.

Peter couldn't blame them though, he always gave his criminals a chance to bail before they committed the crime.

Doesn't change the fact that they refuse every single time.

Some how he feels like asking for mercy here wouldn't do anyone good.

Turns out that the principal hadn't turned off the intercoms, there wasn't another distinct 'beep' that showed that the principal had delivered her message, even though she had. That seemed to be what solidified it for most students.

The fact that the principal wasn't returning to close the phone.

Or maybe it was the loud bang that had rung out on the line, for all of the school to hear.

Peter could hear the screeching of desks getting pulled along the floor to place in front of doors, most likely to barricade the door. Peter could hear the shushing of students towards the others that were sobbing or murmuring.

He could hear the shuffling of hurried footsteps behind him.

Peter's breath caught in his throat as he whirled around and felt for his hidden web-shooters, eyes blown wide as he went to shoot his webs at the shooter-

But who Peter was faced with was another student, her fearful expression mirroring Peter's. Peter squinted at her, trying to put a name to her familiar face. He suddenly recognized her as one of his old friends from his old band class.

He was pretty sure she played the saxophone.

"Angela?!" Peter whispered, panic clear in his tone as he looked at her, his wrist raised to shoot at her. He could only imagine the fear she had felt when he turned around and lifted his arms swiftly to face her, like he was gonna shoot her.

He technically was, but certainly not in the way she had assumed he would.

The only response she seemed to be able to muster was a slight nod, her eyes now clouding over with a new emotion that Peter couldn't pinpoint as she rushed over to Peter, her curly, short hair bouncing wildly with her choppy movements.

"We need to hide-" Angela said, her tone showing determination to mask her earlier fear as she reached to knock on the door of the classroom that Peter could hear people sobbing from earlier. Now the sobs had quieted down to slight hiccups. Peter quickly reached her arm and gripped at it tightly, shaking his head frantically.

"You can't- It'll just freak everyone out and attract more attention towards us-" Peter whispered to her, turning his head to look on both sides of the hallway for any threats, even though it really wasn't needed because of Peter's super-hearing. Angela looked at him, her eyes clouding over with uncertainty and hesitance before slowly lowering her clenched hand from the door. She nodded once, and that was enough of confirmation for Peter to let go of her hand.

"Okay then, what do we do then?" Angela said, kneeling down to make themselves smaller and less noticeable at first glance. Peter followed suit of her actions, wringing his hands, biting at the bottom of his lips. He spoke up finally, his eyes glancing around  the hallway they were in

"We cou-" He started, only for a dozen more shots to ring out across the school, further away from them, further away than Peter had expected the shooter to be. Both Peter and Angela winced at that, but didn't peep a single sound.

This was a situation of life or death.

They couldn't risk anything.

"We could try the bathrooms? The doors are tough and there are locks from the inside" Peter said, only to have Angela shake her.

"We need to cross the cafeteria to get to the nearest bathroom- The most open spot in the whole school, we'll be shot on sight" Angela said, her tone of voice growing more anxious, but not nearly as anxious as Peter's, as though she wasn't allowing herself to be anxious in this situation. Peter could commend her for that, she was definitely made of some tough stuff.

Peter just needs to remind himself that he's Spider-Man, and that he's dealt with a bunch of gun wielding crooks before, and he is proud to say he has never had any fatalities. 

Well, no fatalities except for his Uncle...

He gently grazed his fingers on his wrist to feel the web-shooters and took in a breath to calm himself, holding it for a moment before breathing out slowly. He looked up at Angela, noticing that she seemed lost, like she was out of idea's. Right now, the only thing they can rely on is themselves, and each other. They were both alone in this, with the shooter a couple hallways away, the gun still shooting.

"Then what do you suggest?" Peter asked, and a bit of surprise passed in front of her face. A moment of silence passed between the two, wincing as a gun shot sounded louder then it did a few seconds ago.

The shooter was near, and they didn't have time to waste.

Angela's hand lifted to her hair and twirled it between her fingers, finally nodding at him in confirmation.

"Let's go" She said, her voice more certain now. She pulled her hand away from her hair and they both sat up from their crouched positions, the two hunched over, still trying to make themselves smaller. Peter nodded and her and just as he went to lead the way, she stepped up and started going in front of him, shuffling to the public bathrooms. Peter didn't hesitate to follow her steps.

The bathrooms might already be locked, but it was worth a shot, because it's the only thing they had right now.

It was better than staying at the wall of a hallway, just begging to be shot at.

Soon enough, they arrived to the door connected to the cafeteria from their hallway. Angela reached for the door handled and pulled at it, the two teens wincing at the small clicking noise it made as it opened. Angela stuck her head out to check the clearing before nodding to Peter, waving her hand at him to follow, not waiting for a nod of confirmation before turning back around and opening the door completely, shuffling through it and hunching in on herself more. Peter followed suit, gently closing the door behind him so it didn't make any loud noise.

He felt a sudden spike of adrenaline, now in the wide open cafeteria, all the chairs on the floor and the tables didn't provide much to hide. As Peter looked around, he noticed a few students hiding under the tables, some of them seemed somewhere else, like they couldn't believe this was actually happening, while others were looking at them intently, some squinting in question while others had a wide eyed, fearful look. There were probably a dozen or so students all hiding out here.

"Let's go" Angela hissed at him, tugging at his shirt sleeve as she scurried down the clearing, chairs and tables on both their sides. Peter followed her, tugging at his sleeves nervously as they did so.

Then a gun shot rang out, and Peter heard the slump of a body hitting the floor. Almost everyone hiding in the cafeteria jolted, even one table made a loud screeching noise. Peter lifted his gaze from the tiled floor and looked up at the person wielding a gun at the other end of the cafeteria, not looking towards them but towards the table that had jolted.

Then Peter's bell suddenly dinged.

All of a sudden all the attention was turned towards them.

The shooter instantly turned around and faced them, gun pointing in their direction. Peter lifted up his wrist and pressed on his his web shooter, aiming it at the gun.

The web fluid jammed.

Peter felt his spidey-sense flare and then-

A shot rang out in the cafeteria, and suddenly everything felt so much more silent. He heard nothing for a moment, and then he heard it-

The soft thud of a body.

Right next to him.

Peter's eyes instantly fly to the person next to him, to his past classmate. Angela's looking down at her bleeding stomach with this look of horror, her fingers gripping at the gun wound with a light grip to it. She tears her eyes away from the gun wound. In the movies, the person would usually have tears in their eyes, or maybe they would call out the name of the person their with.

That's not what happened. 

"Why..." Was all she said, her eyes devoid of the tears that he had expected, simply try and horrified, as anyone would be. Peter suddenly felt his heart break, the heart that had been cracking the moment he saw the blood staining her floral, wavy, white and pink shirt. Another shot rang out but Peter barely registered it, all his focus on the person in front of him.

The person he had convinced to come out into the cafeteria.

Peter collapsed onto his knee's and gently layed her down, shushing her as he ripped off his sweater, using it to soak up the blood as he pressed his shaking hands against the wound on her stomach, the blood already soaking through it. He shook his head as tears sprung to his eyes, shaking his head as he already mourned  person he barely knew, someone he had spent but a few breaks with.

He didn't even know her last name.

Angela didn't smile at him, didn't reassure him that she was fine or that it wasn't his fault, she didn't even blame him for this happening to her. She just looked up at him with these terrified eyes that seemed to be losing their spark, losing that personality behind them. 

She carefully touched his arm and squeezed it weakly, and that's when Peter started sobbing, because it's like she was trying to reassure  _him._  Her own blood stained hand smeared some of Peter's arm, but Peter wouldn't care less and he cried over her, pressing onto her harder.

"I-i'm so sorry Angela, I'm so s-sorry- S-someone's coming to get you, okay, okay? You're gonna be okay-" Peter tried to reassure, if he was trying to reassure her or himself, he wasn't sure. Probably both. Angela just shook her head, closing them for a moment before looking up at Peter.

"Tell my family I love them" Was all she said, tears suddenly springing to her eyes "And tell my siblings I'm still there for them..." She whispered, and then she just looked up at the ceiling, blood pooling around her more and more. She squeezes his arm once more and gently touches his cheek, once again seemingly trying to reassure him without using any of her dying breaths.

She let's her hand fall to her side, almost like something you would see in a dramatic movie. God, Peter wishes this were a movie, wishes this were a nightmare he's gonna wake up from, so he can go to school and give Angela a big hug, tell her how much she matters, maybe hang out with her more. 

Peter wishes for a lot at this moment.

But most of all, Peter wishes she would close her eyes.

Peter can see darkness creeping into his own vision, but the adrenaline and panic is all that's pushing him through, as though his own will for her to live would help her, would make her survive for just a few more minutes before paramedics arrive.

"No no no no no- Come on Angela, just a few more minutes, okay? You're so close Angela, come on come on-" Peter says, panic gripping at his core as his tears mix with the blood laying around him, staining his shirt, his hoodie.

The blood smeared everywhere, and all Peter can see is  _red_.

His panicked calls get no reaction from her.

That's when he knows she's gone.

He knows she's gone because she doesn't react.

Peter dares to look up at her face, and instantly regrets it, because he knows that face will haunt him in nightmares. She's no longer the courageous, eccentric, strong willed, snarky and sarcastic person he knew from class and conversations. Now she's a dead eyed corpse that was once a person, only now holding the DNA of who she once was, and that same face as that person. Like an impostor was in her body and had willed it to be unmoving, to be emotionless and willed her heart to stop beating.

Now she's just another victim added to the death count in the news.

Peter kneels down and wipes at his eyes, only to have blood smear on his face.

He cries harder, shoulders shaking as he stares down at the body that was a mess of red. 

Red red red r _ed red red red **red red red.**_

Then he hears the sirens in the distance, coming closer and closer to the school, the paramedics and police coming to take down the killer, put them in prison for life. The people coming to wheel away the casualties of this event, and event that might just go down in history, or might just be something that shows up on the news a few times before being forgotten by everyone except the witnesses and people instantly affected by it.

As the sirens grow closer, Peter stares down at the body of a person he barely knew, and he let's out an anguished cry.

He let's it tear through his through in a scream, because now the shooters gone and he just caused another death.

_Everyone around him dies_

The police rush in, guns held up as they shout things that Peter can't hear, because all he can hear is the shrieking of sirens outside, the sound of it grating his ears and banging inside his brain. He was supposed to trust those sirens, but whenever it comes down to it, they always  _fucking_ fail him.

The medics rush in and are looking for any survivors, and Peter doesn't really know what happens after. All he knows is that their trying to pull him away from Angela and he's screaming, screaming and s _creaming._ Because he needs to be there for her, because he failed her. 

 _He can't leave her like that_.

Blood smears everywhere, trailing with him as they drag him away, the blood seemingly never ending.

Her shed blood following him, showing him that it's  _his fault._ That even when he washes away the blood the guilt of her death will always weigh him down.

He fights against all the hands pushing against him, and usually he would be able to push all of them away, but some how he feels weaker. Weaker down to his very bone, like suddenly his bones were toothpicks and his muscles were Kleenex. Even with this though, he tries to push through, tries to fight. 

She deserves at least that.

But then the darkness is creeping in his vision again, and he is being laid down and  _attached_  to a gurney and the blood is still smearing down on it and  _where is all this blood coming from._

Peter finally slumps down against the uncomfortable plastic mattress, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

Yet his heart still seems to weigh a thousand pounds more.

Peter kind of hopes it will smash those cracked pieces off his heart to dust particles that will be able to float away.

_He wishes he could float away, instead of being surrounded by the darkness taking over him._

Then, just before he is wheeled out of the school he hears the intercom closing, probably a police officer to stop more panic from rising.

That's when Peter truly realizes, this is all real.

Then there's the distinct ding of the intercom being closed.

That's what makes this whole experience final.


	2. Waking Up

It was almost surprising, how Peter came to. He didn't jolt up in fear from a nightmare that had plagued him, he didn't groan in pain from any sore muscles, and he didn't even hear anything. All he knew is that he was awake. He knows this but he doesn't know how. He can't even feel the soft sheets that are layed over him.

All he knows is that he should open his eyes, and it's not a voice in his head telling him to do so, it just happens on instinct. Like he's waking up on a school day in the early morning, just a few minutes before his alarm rings. 

Showing him that what happened had all just been a nightmare.

Peter opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the blaring light that seemed to attack him with the power of a thousand suns for a few seconds. Once the pain had passed, Peter hesitantly opened his eyes completely, trying to take in his surroundings to see where he was.

He had been expecting to be in a hospital bed, one with a singular pillow and an uncomfortable mattress, white surrounding him at every corner. He sure hadn't been expecting the, admittedly much more comfortable, MedBay in the compound. Peter took in his surroundings. The walls were a nice shade of grey, a sofa pulled across from his bed and a couple of chairs were strewn around, there was even a bean bag in the corner.

Even more notable though, were some of his teammates sitting around, some of them talking while others seemed to be doing work on their phones, none of them have realized that he had woken up. Peter goes to lift his arm to remove the dark blue, soft blanket that lay over him.

As he went to lift his arm, he winced as pain suddenly made itself known of his right shoulder, getting a surprised yelp from Peter. 

Instantly, his teammates were looking at him in surprise, both Tony and Bruce quickly standing up from where they were seated, rushing over to him while the others put away their devices. Peter could feel the wave of relief spreading over the room, which just made him more confused.

"Peter! You've finally decided to wake up- Took you long enough" Tony commented, instantly moving to the right side of the bed while Bruce moved to his left side, gently moving him to get a better look at his shoulder. This time Peter ignored the burning of the supposed wound, which he had no idea how he even got it.

Must've been while he was struggling against the medics.

Peter winced at that, but no one commented on it, probably assuming it was from the poking and prodding that Bruce was doing to his shoulder.

"Yeah well, you can't get rid of me for that long" Peter replied, sending a smile to Tony who instantly held a deadpanned expression.

"I don't know why we even worry about you most of the time" Tony drawled, rolling his eyes as he plopped down on a chair next to Peter`s bed. 

"Yeah, yeah, you love me-" Peter said, getting another eye roll "Anyways, what am I doing here?" Peter asked, looking at everyone in the room. Sudden waves of confusion and concerned wore itself on peoples features.

"You don`t remember what happened?" Steve asked, brows furrowing as he looked down at the foot of the bed. 

"I thought I made that clear with my last question" He said, looking at Steve questioningly. Just as Steve opened his mouth to answer him Natasha cut in.

"You were shot in the shoulder" She stated bluntly, getting a surprised squeak out of Peter

"I did? I hadn't noticed at all- Usually, my spidey-senses would warn me, or I'd feel the pain-" Peter said, looking down at the midnight blue blanket layed over him. Somehow though, Peter knew why he hadn't realized it. He had been too occupied with the person dying by his side, the person that had-

He quickly cut off that thought.

"Yeah, but now you should be fine. Your super healing took care of most of it, just don't push yourself for the next two or three days and you should be good, okay?" Bruce explained, nodding slightly to himself, his hair a mess and glasses just slightly askew. Peter wondered if he had been checking up on him this whole time, making sure nothing went wrong.

"Okay, cool- Why am I here anyway? I mean, I'm grateful and all, just wondering why I'm here and not in the hospital-" Peter questioned. 

"Oh, Ned had texted Tony about what was going on, and because of your metabolism and all a normal hospital wouldn't have worked for you, since they would have realized way to quickly that something was going on. Just as they were gonna bring you into the ambulance, Captain America himself stopped them and reassured them that they would take care of you specifically. They didn't fight against it. Don't worry though, Tony made sure to swear them to secrecy" Natasha explained, shrugging slightly as she stood up.

Peter opened his mouth to ask about any bodies being dragged out, or if they had seen a girl with dark skin, curly hair and a stained shirt being wheeled out. He almost asked if they had seen Angela. He opened his mouth to question them, only to halt the words just a moment before they formed. He couldn't let them all know what he had witnessed, they had all seen so much death and suffering by themselves, Peter was sure this was salt to compare to those terrors.

Not only that, but Peter didn't want to to see him as incapable, and if not that then he didn't want them to worry too much. He was fine, he would just need a short while to get over her death, maybe attend her funeral and then get over with it.

After all, he barely knew her. He shouldn't let himself be weighed down by her death, he had seen and been through so much worst, he would be fine.

He just needs a bit of time, so his teammates don't need to know anything. He doesn't need to disappoint or worry them with something that will eventually pass.

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing Sam in an apron as he poked his head inside the room.

"Hey guys, dinner's ready, so get your asses to the dining table before everything gets cold-" He said, tugging at his apron strings as he scanned the room, waving at Peter.

"You to Peter- That is, if you can leave the bed?" Sam asked, glancing between everyone. Before anyone could confirm that he could leave the bed, Peter sat up, flinching just slightly.

"Welp, I'm starving, let's go eat some of Sam's nice dinner, alright?" Peter said and pushed himself to the side of the med, standing up slowly. Sam squinted at him before shrugging and walking off. Bruce bit down on his lower lip, seemingly contemplating on telling Peter to get back in bed or leaving Peter to do as he wants to. He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head and he passed a hand through his hair, which Peter considered a victory on his part.

They all walk towards the dining room to eat, it is directly connected to the kitchen to make it easier. If they could've, they would've had it in the same area as the kitchen, but they're just so many of them that they had to make a whole room dedicated to just them eating dinner together, as they do most nights. The table is already set up and the people who weren't visiting Peter are already seated. Peter sits down in his usual spot, being careful to not jostle his arm too much.

Everyone got seated, everyone thanking Sam and Bucky for cooking dinner as they started shoveling food onto their plates. Peter put on a normal proportion, instead of the heaping pile he would usually put. He wasn't feeling that hungry at the moment. Peter glanced around the table, catching Natasha looking at him curiously. She tilted her head curiously at him for a moment but doesn't speak up.

Soon enough everyone starts talking to each other, asking for people to pass around some dishes or talking about the day they had. Usually, Peter would be talking about how his day went or complaining about the heaping amount of homework the teachers gave out, but today he just... didn't have it in him to talk that much.

He glanced around the table, noticing everyone laughing and chatting about without a single worry, no one on their devices as they usually were since they had made it an explicit rule that no electronics were to be turned on at the table, and that all notifications are supposed to be turned off. If something was truly important enough to warrant being interrupted, F.R.I.D.A.Y would intervein and tell them.

Peter turned his gaze down to his plate, poking at his vegetables with his fork, left hand lying limp on his lap. Peter wondered how Angela's family was coping right now, how they were handling the family dinner.

Wondered how the dynamic had changed now that she was gone.

Peter jolted in surprise at the thought, eyes widening a bit as his chair squeaked against the floor, instantly making everyone's heads turn to him. Peter felt a flush of warmth instantly go to his ears and cheeks, letting out a nervous chuckle.

"You okay sport?" Clint asked from across him, and Peter nodded on reflex, head moving in erratic motions as he nodded.

"Yeah, just felt something graze my leg. It was just my imagination though, it's fine" Peter sputtered, and he could feel the tension rise. He was sure that everyone in this room could smell his lie. They weren't one of the most trusted heroes on this earth without reason. They even had 3 spies with them, one doubling as a super soldier. 

"What, afraid a spider will bite you again?" Tony teased, and the tension that had started building in the room instantly dipped. Peter let out a surprised snort.

"Okay, it was not fun last time that spider bit me, I'll tell you that much. Sure, I got super cool powers out of it, but I was terribly sick for 3 days. I'd much rather not go through that again" He said, and everyone laughed at that.

"Kid, I'm pretty sure none of us had a fun experience to be able to make it to this table." Steve reassured, only to be cut off by Sam

"Except for Clint, because apparently, he's an exception to everything-"

"I take offense to that! I am just gifted with this amazing talent for shooting baddies and getting ass" Clint said, making an over dramatic 'hair flip', getting a mix of laughter and groans from everyone at the table.

"I'm pretty sure you're still a virgin Clint-" Tony piped up, getting an offended gasp out of Clint

"I am offended" Clint said, hand sprawled over his chest dramatically as Peter burst into laughter at the referenced meme. Clint grinned proudly at that and shoveled a piece of potato in his mouth, humming in delight at the taste. After that, Peter felt the tension and anxiety in his body bleed out bit by bit, the thought of red stains and a missing life fading from his mind.

"Maybe we should stop talking about virginity at the table" Steve suggested, only for Clint to point his fork in accusation

"You're one to speak, Tony should put soundproof walls and yours and Bucky's room with how often I can hear you-" Clint started, waving his fork around only to have Sam fake cough, cutting him off.

"Now I'm stopping you right there, I'd rather have this dinner without mentioning any of our sex lives, or lack of it" Sam said, giving a pointed look to Clint at the end, getting a grumble in response. Peter chuckled and shook his head at his make-shift family and their dynamic. Even if their dynamic was weird though, Peter wouldnt trade it for the world.

Peter got back to eating his dinner, granted with a bit more enthusiasm than earlier. Maybe Peter didn't engage in conversation as often as he usually would, and maybe he didn't sass everyone at least once, but he felt lighter than he did earlier, like they had all taken the weight that weighed on his shoulder and helped him lift it just a bit. It felt relieving.

No one questioned him on what happened the day before, or what had happened for him to get shot. He was internally grateful for that, because he doesn't want to completely face the situation just yet, doesn't want to start looking into when the funeral will be, he doesn't want to acknowledge the blood that had stained everything it had touched.

Doesn't want to think about the blood on his hands.

"Welp, I'm full" Clint proclaimed, standing up from his chair and grabbing his plate, everyone following suit a couple of minutes later. Peter glanced down at his empty plate and picked it up, standing up and following behind Natasha to the kitchen where everyone was putting the leftovers in containers or depositing their plates and utensils in the washing machine to get cleaned thoroughly through the night. Peter rinsed his plate under the sink before having it grabbed by Bucky, who passed it over to Natasha who stored it in the dishwasher. Peter couldn't help but smile at that, at the routine they had all set up for themselves. 

Peter inched away from the kitchen, ending up side to side with Tony, and he glanced at him when a question suddenly popped in his head. 

"Hey Tony, where is my phone?­" Peter asked suddenly, Tony hummed and glanced at Peter for a moment.

"Your phone is on your desk in your room, I also put your web-shooters there" Tony paused "Also, something seemed to be wrong with your web-shooters, so you might want to check that out" Tony informed him before sending him a slight smile "Anyways, I'll be in the lab if you need me kid, feel free to join me" 

"Yeah, thank you Mr.Stark!" Peter thanked, but his mind was stuck on the fact that Tony knew something was wrong with his web-shooters and had the audacity to tell him so. Well, that isn`t fair to him, he couldn't have possibly known that they had jammed just yesterday when-

Peter took in a deep breath

"I'll make sure to look into it soon, I'm just really tired right now" Peter said, and Tony chuckled.

"You pass out for over 24 hours, wake up and only a few hours later you're tired." Tony said, a smirk playing on his lips as he waved his hand lazily, walking away towards the elevator to go to the lab. Peter rolled his eyes and called back.

"At least I don`t live off of caffeine like you!" He called, getting a laugh out of the billionaire as he stepped inside the elevator. Peter shook his head. Peter reached his phone to check for the time, only to touch nothing. Peter made his way to the elevator as well, the door opening, signaling that Tony had already been dropped off at the lab. Thankfully, he didn't have to tell F.R.I.D.A.Y where he wanted to go, instantly being directed to the floor where his room was. 

Soon enough Peter was walking inside his room, and for some reason he expected it to be different, expected something to be moved around or for it to feel  _different._  But no, ass he entered, nothing had changed. His chair was pushed under his desk and his bed was still as messy as he had left it the day before, papers scattered on the floor. 

He doesn't know if he's relieved about that or not.

Peter glances towards his desk, and just as Tony had told him, his web shooters and phone were at the corner of his desk, where they would always be. Even with this though, it seemed so out of place. Peter can't pinpoint why though. Peter walks over to his desk, going to grab for his phone that's displaying the time back at him. Just as he goes to grab it, Peter feels a surge of panic shoot through him, making him instantly take a few steps, clutching his hand to his chest as he stares at it, mouth agape as his heart strums furiously against his chest and for a second all Peter can hear is his heartbeat.

Then there's a gentle knock on the door.

Peter flinches violently, like the knock had physically hurt him. Peter's heart hasn't stopped, and for a moment Peter doesn't answer, eyes now staring at the door as though it were a foreign object.

A dangerous object.

After a few seconds, there's another knock and Peter sucks in a raspy breath.

"Come in" He calls out weakly, and the doors opens slowly, revealing Natasha behind it. Peter feels a sense of relief at that, like he was expecting someone else that wasn't from his team. He knows it's a ridiculous thought, especially considering that he would most likely be notified immediately if someone had broken into their portion of the tower, but he can't help it. 

"Hey, Just wanted to tell you that there won't be any school tomorrow, we forgot to tell you at dinner. We had received an email from the school." Natasha informed him, leaning against his door frame, looking at him intently. Peter gripped at his arm tightly, nodding slightly. He felt like she could see right through him, but that wasn't anything new. 

"Oh, thanks Nat- What are we doing tomorrow anyways?"

"Don't know" Natasha replied simply, shrugging before pushing herself off of the door frame "And Peter, just keep in mind that you can talk to us about anything, okay? I know something happened, we all do, so come and tell us when you're ready, okay?" Natasha said, sending a quick glance over to the two items that had almost caused Peter to have a panic attack.

"Of course Nat, but really, I'm fine. Just need a day or two to really wrap my head around what happened, you know?" Peter said, tugging at his sleeve with his right hand, other arm staying limp. Natasha hummed and nodded slightly, seeming unconvinced, but none the less let it go. She grabbed at his door handle.

"Well, if we can do anything to help, just tell us, okay?" Natasha said, and Peter nodded, smiling at her. She nodded back at him before closing the door behind her, her footsteps fading off in the distance. He let out a long breath he didn't know he had been holding, sparing a quick glance at his phone before looking away. 

He stripped his shirt off, grunting softly as pain consumed his shoulder for a moment as he moved it too much. Peter threw the shirt into the basket at the corner on his room before pushing himself off the bed, shuffling towards his dresser as he wiggled out of his pants. He picked out a pair or soft, long pajama pants and pulled them on. As he walked back to his bed, he threw the sweat pants into the basket as well before pulling back his bed covers roughly, gently snuggling under the multiple, soft blankets.

For a brief moment, Peter wondered who had changed him out of his bloody clothing and into the more comfortable clothing he had woken up in. 

Peter was sure he wasn't getting those clothes back, not with how much  _blood_ that had stained them. Peter wondered how they would clean off all the blood in the school.

Maybe that's why there isn't any school, so they can wipe away all the blood stains coating the walls and the  _floor and Peter's clothes and the blood on his hands-_

"Friday, turn on the audio for a Game Grumps play through please" Peter suddenly piped up, and F.R.I.D.A.Y didn't respond, but a second later a Game Grumps play through was playing in the background, volume put pretty low, but Peter could hear it clearly. Peter closed his eyes and snuggled against his pillow.

He fell asleep a few minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect updates to happen this often btw- I just so happened to have a lot of free time in school, which almost never happens- XD
> 
> Anyways, if there are any weird ass apostrophe's it's because I used a french keyboard-
> 
> Also, probably a lot of grammatical errors or words missing, so feel free to correct me on that- XD
> 
> Please leave a comment! I love reading them and replying to them-


	3. Just Training

Peter doesn't know how he got himself here.

He was standing in a seemingly endless hallway, the walls a similar color to the ugly beige that coated the school's hallways, but it all seemed off. Even though Peter logically knew that these were the school hallways, it didn't seem like it. The teen started walking down the hallway, trying to find an end to it, looking to the side for any classroom doors, but each one he crossed was closed and the lights were turned off inside. Peter wrapped his arms around himself, frowning slightly. It wasn't just the hallways that felt off, everything felt different.

Then Peter heard footsteps behind him, and he felt a sudden, inexplicable fear coursed through him. Without any prompting or even a pause, Peter was running down the hallway, suddenly desperate to reach the end. The beige of the walls and the chipped paint of doors blurring together as he sprinted, his lungs trying to suck in as much air as they could to will him to go faster. But no matter how fast he ran the footsteps drew closer, making the panic in his chest tighten. Then he tripped over his own legs, stumbling down and crashing to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He expected pain to consume his elbows and head when he crashed, but nothing followed. He didn't think too hard about it.

The footsteps halted the moment he crashed to the floor, and no loud bang echoed in the hallway (Why had he been expecting a gunshot? He didn't dwell on that either). Peter hesitantly opened his eyes to look for the source of the footsteps, but suddenly he wasn't in that endless, dark hallway anymore. He glanced around at the tiled floors and the yellowish walls, realizing he was in the cafeteria. All the tables were moved or completely flipped over, chairs were sprawled around the room in a similar fashion.

He lifted his head and pushed himself into a sitting position, feeling mildly confused at the change of scenery, but not as confused as he should have been. He looked around for any sign of life, to see who or what had caused this mess in the cafeteria. 

Then a thud sounded from behind him.

Peter instantly stumbled to his feet, the sound of the thud sending another jolt of adrenaline through him for some reason. It made no sense to Peter, but it really didn't have to at that moment. Peter stumbled to his feet, hands suddenly slippery with a thick liquid that he didn't bother to identify. Peter whirled around to look and see what caused the noise. 

What he hadn't expected to see was blood coating every surface of the other half of the cafeteria, everything coated in this god awful **_red_** that made Peter's stomach do anxious and petrified flips. Red was everywhere, even coating the single body standing right across from him. 

The body of Angela.

She was dead, her eyes wide open and staring up. Her clothing coated in a bright red, her blood sprawled on every surface imaginable. Her hair dripped of the liquid and her clothing had soaked up the most it possibly could. Her face was completely slack, no sign of terror or any remaining emotions from the slaughter on her face. She was just blank, a shell of the person she once was.

Somehow that was so much worst.

Peter wanted to stumble forward and grab onto her, wanted to apologize for reasons unknown to him, because this was his fault. He doesn't know why it's his fault, but it is. He wanted to step forward, but his feet refused to move, like they were stuck in dried cement. Peter felt tears well up in his eyes and he tried to fight it, tried to fight this weird force keeping him from her.

Then his phone dinged.

Peter ceased all movement. Then suddenly his hands were reaching in his back pocket for his phone. His hands slick with the thick liquid still as it gripped at his phone, slipping it out. The teen felt like a prisoner in his own body. He squeezed his eyes shut, but even with his eyes shut he could see in front of him, see the phone slowly coming into view. It was then that Peter realized that the substance on his hand was blood, the screen of his phone displaying the blood perfectly on its screen, the blood maneuvering into the cracks of it and staying there.

Peter was faced with a multitude of messages, messages he never even wanted to read. When he looked at the contact, it simply said 'What's My Last Name?'.

Peter knew who it was, he didn't dare to look up at the body of the person though as messages kept flooding in.

Why

Why

Why

Why

_Why_

_Why_

_Why_

_**Why** _

_**Why** _

_**WhY** _

_**WHY** _

Peter felt his shoulders shake as he gripped at his phone tighter, but even as his grip tightened the phone slipped between his blood stained fingers. Peter shook violently, sobs wracking through his body.

'I-I don't know! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' Peter wanted to yell out, but every single word got caught in his throat, refusing to be uttered. His throat suddenly felt incredibly dry and scratchy, but despite this Peter still tried to scream. All that came out were pathetic squeaks. Peter tried to reach for his phone because maybe he could text it to her, get the message across to her-

Then bloody hands grabbed at his and Peter's head snapped up and he came face to face with the dead-eyed girl that was now gripping at his wrist with an almost painful strength. 

Peter went to let out a scream of terror-

Peter jolted awake, scream at the tip of his tongue only to quickly be smothered by Peter himself. He quickly sat up in his bed, blankets being kicked to the floor as he scrambled to stand, panicking when he almost tripped over his own feet before he reaches the light switch, stumbling over his clothing. He's in the dark and he barely even knows what he is doing, all he knows it that he needs  _light._ He's panting and panicking but he barely acknowledges it, to focused on the task at hand to worry about breathing exercises and the fact that he is  _this close_ to having a panic attack.

 _He just needs to turn the light on and he'll be fine._  

Peter ignores the burning of his shoulder because he is basically doing _everything_ he shouldn't be doing to it. It feels like an eternity before Peter arrives at the switch in record time, the lights of his room coming to life and taking away the darkness. 

Peter was half expecting his room to be covered in blood, or for a body to be laying somewhere. He closed his eyes momentarily at the pain of the sudden light, but soon enough opened them again, squinting to adjust better.

Instead, he was faced with his usually messy room, nothing have changed since he had gone to sleep. He felt so much relief that he could have cried right then and there. Peter's heart rate slowly started to lower, the beating not abusing his eardrums anymore or making every bit of his skin feel scolding hot. 

Peter did a once over of the room again, pointedly ignoring the web shooters and his phone before shambling towards the bathroom connected to his bedroom. As he crossed through the door, he flicked the light on and made his way towards the sink, not daring to look up at his reflexion in the mirror.

He knew it was illogical, but he was scared to find Angela behind him, staring at him with those lifeless eyes, or maybe he was scared to see if blood still coated at his skin.

He turned on some cold water and splashed his face, a sigh passing his lips as he gripped at the sink for a moment. Still avoiding the mirror, he gripped at a towel and patted his face down before placing it on the counter. He left the water running, only turning it a bit warmer to wash his hands without the unnecessary pain of waiting for his hands to get warm again if he used cold water, which could honestly take so long because he god damn body doesn't thermoregulate as it should.

Soon enough he was scrubbing at his hands with soap violently, not really realizing what he was doing for a moment. He was scrubbing and  _scrubbing_ at it, as if it could wipe away his wrong doings. He only stopped when his skin started turning pink and feeling irritated. He frowned down at the pinkish color before grabbing the towel again, wincing slightly as he wiped at the aggravated skin.

Feeling better now, he started doing his usual morning routine. He quickly brushed his teeth, doing it a bit more roughly than is really necessary. He spits it out and quickly grabs a small cup and filing it with water, washing down the strong, minty taste of the toothpaste.

Peter grabs his hair brush and walks outside of the bathrom and back inside his messy room, brushing his hair half-hazardly. There were no mirrors in his room (Which he was grateful for), so he had no clue what his hair looked like, but he hoped it seemed passable. He quickly slipped on a pair of jeans an one of his science T-Shirts. Peter once again glanced back at his phone, but turned his head away quickly. 

As he exited his room, he didn't turn the lights off.

He felt safer with them on, even if he wasn't in the room.

Peter made his way to the kitchen to grab something to eat. He was surprised to find Steve there by himself, reading a book as he ate some scrambled eggs. As Peter stepped closer, Steve glanced up and smiled at him in greeting.

"Hey kid, coming to get a bite?" He asked. Peter nodded slightly in response, smiling at the soldier as he before grabbing at a banana in the fruit bowl. As he peeled the banana, he made his way towards the coffee machine. Steve scoffed at that jokingly, shaking his head "You're too young to drink that stuff, I swear Tony is corrupting you" He said, shaking his head in fake disappointment. Peter glanced and the super-soldier and smirked as he poured himself some coffee. He took quick strides towards the fridge to get himself some creamer.

"Yeah well, it's because coffee is the only thing that can feed my dying soul" Peter said, forcing a serious expression on his face to bite back a laugh, making him look more constipated than anything. Steve snorted and shook his head, making a point to take an obnoxious sip from his tea.

"My soul must smell like flowers and honey then, since my caffeinated drink is much less... disgusting" Steve said, his nose wrinkling in feigned disgust, getting a dramatic gasp out of Peter. The teen walked back towards his mug to pour some creamer in it.

"Tea is just colored water that tastes absolutely disgusting, now as for coffee, it doesn't taste like bitter water, unlike that leaf water you're drinking" Peter countered, pouring in the creamer and reaching for the sugar jar.

"You're right, yours is bean water, so much better" He responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Peter let out a sigh and poured an overflowing spoon of sugar in it before mixing it, picking up the mug and turning around, leaning his back against the countered as he took a prolonged sip of his coffee.

"It might be bean water, but it's tasteful bean water" Peter said, but before Steve could reply, he changed the topic of conversation "Anyways, are there any plans for today?" Peter questioned, taking another sip of his coffee. Steve put a bookmark at the page he was at and closed the book gently.

"A couple of us will be sparring in just a couple minutes. You're free to watch us if you want to, but don't even think about joining. You need to give your shoulder awhile to heal" Steve said, squinting at Peter as if to dare him to counter his words. Peter glanced at his shoulder fleeting before nodding.

"Yeah, I think I'll come and watch. I don't have much else to do anyway. I'm almost certain Tony would be watching me like a hawk if I even dared to go to the labs for work" Peter said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly "Anyways, how is Bucky doing?" Peter asked and instantly Steve's face became more morose. Steve sighed and glanced down at the table, avoiding Peter's gaze.

"He's down in the training room burning off some steam of the treadmill. He had a pretty bad nightmare last night and has been going at it since 5 Am" Steve said, and Peter quickly glanced at the clock. That means Bucky had been down there for about 3 hours. Peter frowned slightly at that. The nightmare must have been pretty bad, since he usually only spent about half of that time after a nightmare, or he'd stay with Steve depending on the contents of the bad dream or memories. 

Peter could relate to that feeling though, especially after the nightmare he had.

After what he witnessed just the day before yesterday.

Steve didn't have to know that though, so Peter didn't mention it.

"Did he have breakfast?" Peter asked, avoiding the topic his thoughts were focused on. Steve sook his head "Maybe you could try to convince him to eat something once he's done? Surely he'll be exhausted afterward-" Peter suggested, and Steve finally looked up at him, nodding slightly at that.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea..." Steve said and looked at the time as well. He stood up from the stool, bringing his dishes to the dishwasher before nodding at Peter "We should get going to the training room as well. Nat, Clint and Sam will be waiting for us-"

Peter nodded slightly and quickly chugged the rest of his coffee before putting the mug in the dishwasher.

He's got nothing better to do anyway.

Peter sat cross-legged, shoulders hunched over as he looked at Natasha and Steve sparring. They were in the large sparring area reserved for only the Avengers and people close to them. The ceiling was higher to allow wide ranged movements and it was mostly spacious, all of their weapons stored inside a walk-in closet type thing if only to make it less dangerous.

Natasha gripped at Steve's wrist and twisted it, yanking it downwards. Steve grunted and kneeled down, forcing Nat to let go. Just as he went to kick under her feet to rolled over his body, kicking into his back. Peter turned his gaze away and  towards Clint and Sam who had both decided to take a short water break. Sam walked on the opposite side, going to grab his water bottle while Clint walked towards Peter where his towel and water bottle sat next to him. 

Clint arrived and plopped down next to Peter, chest heaving a bit. He smelled of sweat and his T-Shirt looked as though it was drenched in water, but Peter didn't comment on it, simply handing over the bottle of water, getting a thankful smile in return as Clint chugged at it greedily. When he pulled away from the bottle, he panted softly and closed the cap.

"Jesus you were thirsty-" Peter commented, getting a chuckle from the archer.

"Yeah I am" Clint said without even batting an eye. Peter groaned and shook his head in disbelief.

"Disgusting, absolutely disgusting. That includes your current body odor"

"Hey! I've been training non-stop without a break for a while now, cut me some slack- What? you don't get sweaty in that red spandex?" Clint said, raising a brow in challenge. Peter paused before sighing.

"Yeah, but doesn't change the fact that it's disgusting-" Peter said, only to have Clint shrug again at that. He clearly didn't care about his B.O right now, which was understandable since they were training, it was to be expected.

Peter needs to pass his boredom somehow though, and Clint is the closest target.

"Anyways Pete, hows the shou-" Clint went to ask, only to be cut off by the dig on his phone.

The similar dinging that Peter could still hear echoing at the back of his mind.

An unfamiliar, blind panic suddenly consumed Peter as he shuffled away from Clint, eyes wide as he stumbled to stand up, his shoulder starting to burn again as he pushed himself to his feet. Suddenly his ears were ringing and his heart was going a thousand miles an hour. Peter could barely translate Clint's shocked and mildly horrified expression as the archer stood up quickly.

Peter felt his lungs start to burn as he backed away violently, fight or flight instantly activated.

He whirled around and ran to where they kept all the weapons, the only place he could think of that had a lock on it. He felt his chest heave in greedy breaths of air because all he knows is that _hes going to die._  He isn't in the training room anymore. He's in the school and he's looking for a classroom with an open door because  _he's gonna get shot at because his phone dinged, or someone else is gonna die and it's his fault._

He can feel his shoulder burning and he hears a shout in the distance and he chokes on a sob, because that means the shooter has to be close if someone is screaming so near to where he is. Peter enters the classroom door that is slightly opened and he enters the room and slams the door closed behind him and bolt locks it. He doesn't really have time to comprehend the fact that he's suddenly in an armorie, because he just needs to look for something protect himself with now.

_He can't trust his web-shooters._

There's knocking and shooting behind the door and Peter scrambles around for something non-lethal he could use. It's hard because his surroundings are fuzzy and he can't see in his peripherals but  _he has to find something._  His hands shake as he opens and closes drawers, and he finally finds a taser gun. He grips at it tightly and turns around to face the door, legs wobbly as he stares in front of him.

Now there is screaming from the other side of the door, calling out to him, telling him to open the door. Peter shakes as tears spill down his cheeks uncontrollably. He's Spider-Man, he should be able to do this so easily yet he can't. He can't reveal his powers because at the moment he's just Peter Parker.

In this current moment, he's just Peter Parker.

Peter Parker can't save people, he can barely save himself.

Now he's just alone, stuck in here with the shooter just outside the door, screaming at him to come out so that they can murder him, like they did with all the others. Peter doesn't let himself sob or scream, not wanting to bring more attention to himself than he already has. Even though he knows for sure that the shooter is aware he's in here, he doesn't want to encourage them to break in.

He just wants them to move on through the school.

_Wants them to leave him alone._

After what feels like a decade, the screaming finally stops from behind the door. Peter dares to hope that the shooter moved onto other locked classrooms, where they wouldn't be able to harm anyone.

Peter doesn't stop holding the taser gun in front of him, but he lowers it for a moment, slowly feeling relief sink in.

Then the doors slams open, the bolt lock snapping off it as though it were nothing. 

Peter suddenly feels his spidey-senses go crazy.

Peter lifts up his taser and shoots blindly, scream caught in his throat because he doesn't want to make to be sound. His blood is boiling and now all he can hear is the sound of the taser gritting as his ears, his heart pounding and he grips onto the taser so tight. The person drops to their knee's when the taser hits them and Peter scrambles backwards, dropping the gun in shock.

Three people enter the room afterwards. They seem so familiar. The red, short hair and the folded mechanical wings. and Peter feels a sense of relief flood through his body because  _his team mates came to stop the shooter._

Except now when Peter glances down to look at the shooter he see's Clint, wincing and shaking from the electricity and it takes a moment for Peter to process. He could have  _sworn_ that the shooter was there a moment ago, ready to shoot him the moment he had a view of Peter.

Peter had shot at him first though.

As Peter looks down at Clint's body though, he feels this dread slowly take over the confusion. Peter hesitates but for a moment before rushing over to Clint, who seems to be doing well considering the situation that Peter put him in. In an instant though, Natasha is carefully grabbing at his arms and by this point Peter can't even feel the blood going down his arm from his shoulder wound have opened, or even feel the burning pain of it. 

He feels fear take over him again, because  _he doesn't want to be pulled away this time._  

_He can't just leave ~~Angela~~  Clint like that! _

He needs to go help him, stay with him or call Bruce to bring him to MedBay because Peter fucked up. He fucked up so badly- He shakes of Natasha's hands, and he lets him kneel next to Clint who's stopped moving, and is now knelled over on all fours, catching his breath and clenching his fist. Peter reaches out to check him for injuries.

_To check for any blood, even though he knows it's illogical._

Nothing about what just happened holds any logic to it anyways. Peter feels like he's in a weird in between space. He doesn't know if he's in the tower, or if he's still in school. He doesn't know if there are any police or medics rushing to get to all the injured and to find the shooter, or if he's truly only surrounded by his team mates.

He doesn't know anymore.

"I-i'm so sorry Clint" Peter whispers, because he doesn't know if someones still out in the hallway, if maybe Tony is taking care of it in that moment, making sure the person will be locked away forever because Tony is overprotective like that, and stubborn as well. As he stares down at Clint, it seems so familiar.  ~~He struggles to think of Clint's wife and kids, think of their names.~~

This time though, the worry feels warranted, because now Peter feels drained and he doesn't feel shame or embarrassed for not having handled it all by himself.

His team was here to help now, so he knew everything was gonna be fine. 

It had to be.

Peter let's Steve help Clint up, Clint looks up at Peter and refuses to be helped out of the room, even though Sam and Nat are hovering near him, ready to escort him out the school because he's sure they can sense how scared he is, how hesitant he is to be alone right now. Clint grips onto Peters arm tightly, and it doesn't send a panicked shock through him.

_The gentleness of the hand feels familiar, how weak it feels for a moment, how it's supposed to comfort him._

_~~Trying to comfort him even though he's not the one **dying.**~~ _

~~~~~~~~Peter grips onto Clint's arm and let's out a breath. Clint takes deep breaths, seemingly encouraging Peter to do the same even though  he has his arm slung over Steve's shoulder to help him stand. Peter does so, ~~ _because it's the least he can do for him._~~

With every breath in and breath out out, he feels a bit lighter, feels like he's becoming more grounded to reality.

After awhile, Peter finally calms. All his surroundings aren't fuzzy anymore, and his thoughts are filled with blind panic or the thoughts of the shooter being just outside the door ready to shoot the moment they exit.

"You good Pete?" Clint finally removes his hand from his arm, and Peter feels an overwhelming guilt set on his shoulders. Peter nods slowly.

"I'm so sorry" Peter whispers to him, putting as much feeling as he can into those words, even though he feels exhausted  both physically and emotionally. The teen notices the worried looks the four shoot to each other, but doesn't comment on it. He knows he must look like an absolute wreck right now, for so many reasons. He won't even try to deny it. Clint shakes his head and sends a comforting smile to him.

"Don't be kid, happens to the best of us" The wounded man says, clearly trying to reassure him that it wasn't his fault. Peter isn't really convinced, but he nods slightly. "Now, let's all go to the living room so that I can lay down and pass off this bit of pain and order people around, why don't we?" Clint suggests. Everyone shows mutual agreement, all slowly filing out of the room.

As their walking across the training room, Sam slows down his pace to walk next to Peter. Peter takes this moment to realize that he had taken off his mechanical wings and goggles, now just stuck in the sweaty vest and T-Shirt he wears. He doesn't bother to say anything to the teen, simply being a familiar, comforting presence to help ground him.

Peter sends him a thankful smile, only getting a glance in return.

He knows that's Sam's way of saying 'You're welcome'.

Clint is laying down on the couch, being a tad bit dramatic as he sips at some orange juice that Sam got for him because  _grape juice is horrible._ Peter is sitting in a recliner, curled up on it as people send him worried looks. He feels calmer now, but he also feels anxious because he knows that he'll have to explain what happened. He'll have to say what happened and why he reacted the way he did. Then they'll hate him because it's  _his fault that she's dead and he should have done something._

Peter sucks in a shaky breath at that.

He hold it in for a moment before letting it out, trying to not think to much about it. Of course, that's easier said than done, but he can still try his damn hardest to not over think this. He knows that his team won't blame him, knows they won't kick him off of the team, but there's still that voice at the back of his mind, nagging and crawling it's way to the forefront of his mind. The worry that they'll do just that.

Even if they didn't blame him or kick him off the team, that doesn't mean that Peter won't think that about himself, because he knows that it's his fault. It's a simple fact that is engraved in his mind just like Uncle Ben's, Aunt May's and Gwen's. They're all dead because of him, and now so is Angela. It's his fault that Clint got tased. What if he had grabbed a lethal weapon, or if the taser gun had been a real gun with bullets? He could have killed Clint, all because of a stupid god damn flashback.

Peter glances around at everyone, some of them looking at Peter worriedly, while Nat just glares at Clint rambling, clearly trying to hold back her smile as Steve looks over at Peter and sends him a kind smile. 

Peter knows he'll have to confess, but he'll prolong it for as long as he can. He knows they won't push him for answers right now, because it's all to fresh in their memory, and they know it won't do any good to have Peter open up.

Peter glances over at Sam who walks in the room, holding a plate filled with pastries for the five of them to share and Peter forces a smile, thanking him as he reaches for a rasberry sugar cookie.

He really should be used to the pain by now.

 _It's just his usual Parker luck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, I was on March Break! =) 
> 
> I had no idea how to approach the flashback, so I did a bit of research of on it and used a bit of what my dad has told me about them. Just so you know, there will be other triggers, all presented to you on a silver platter in the first chapter, so feel free to guess what those are >w>
> 
> Anyways! I hoped you guys liked it and please like a comment! I love reading them and replying to them! =D
> 
> Also what do you think about the reveal for May and Gwen being dead >w> Don't worry the thing with Gwen will be explained later on-
> 
> Also, I kind of hate this chapter? Ugh-


	4. Mix It Just Right

Peter doesn't dare look at the others while he eats the pastries offered to him by Sam. He's rather certain that Bucky is the one that made them, but surely he wouldn't mind a couple missing from the plate. They were left out for them to eat after all. Everyone is silent as they eat the treats, all of them having the same thing stuck on the conscious. The fact that everyone is thinking about the attack creates a sort of tenseness in the room, like they're waiting for someone to bring it up.

Natasha is the first to speak up.

"Peter, you know what we're gonna talk about here, right?" She asks, but it's obviously a hypothetical question.He simply nods in confirmation, not daring to meet her eye in the wake of the topic being finaly brought up. "Well, I just want to tell you that you don't have to tell all of us. You can ask for some of us to leave, or someone to come in if it makes you feel more comfortable" She offers him, and even with the usual matter-of-fact tone she uses, Peter can sense her care through those words. The spy isn't giving him an out of this confrontation, but the fact that she worries about his comfort in this situation is still heartwarming.

He still wishes he had an out though, even if he respects the fact that he needs to talk about this.

Peter doesn't respond for a moment, considering who he would like to talk about this with. He tugs at the long sleeves of his shirt, only stopping when he feels the fabric rub against the gauze placed on his wound. At this point it had re-healed once again, the bleeding having stopped already. 

"Can I just talk with Tony? If that's okay?" Peter asks. No one lets their expressions or mannerisms betray how they feel about this decision, all of them having a perfectly controlled neutral towards this decision. 

Peter wishes they would let him know how they actually feel about this decision though.

"Yeah, that's perfectly okay kid" Clint finally says from his place on the couch "Friday, call Tony in here please. Also, don't forget to mention it's for Peter" Clint says, smirking over at the teen when he utters the last comment. Peter rolls his eyes, smiling slightly at the archer, who grinned back at him. While Clint seemed unaffected by what happened earlier, Peter felt hesitant, like he all of a sudden didn't deserve the trust and care of his teammate.

Well, he really didn't. He fucking tased him.

"Of course BirdMan" F.R.I.D.A.Y replied, gaining a glare towards the ceiling from Clint, laughs or chuckles from the others. Peter forces a chuckle, shaking his head at that.

"I should just change her code myself" Clint grumbled. 

"Since when do you have access to Friday's code?" Peter asked with a teasing edge to his voice, knowing all to well that Clint didn't have access to it. Said man scoffed at him.

"I don't, but I'm a god damn spy, I should be able to get to it somehow" He said, getting an eye roll from Nat. Clint went to comment on thay, only for quick footsteps to interrupt them all, everyone falling deathly silent as Tony rushed into the room. His hair was a bit disheveled and he was wearing a T-Shirt and some jean, both messy, most likely meaning he was in the lab just before he got called down. The mechanic's eyes instantly lock onto Peter, and he seems confused for a moment, his panicked expression starting to fall apart.

"I was honestly expecting him to have gone out as Spider-Man-" Tony suddenly blurts, getting a surprised laugh out of Peter.

"A valid concern, but I thought you would have been averted if I had?" Peter asks with a teasing edge to his voice. Tony looks at him challengingly, as though daring him to use the suit now and see how that turns out for him.

"I would be, but you always find a way around it" He responds simply, letting go of the frame between the living room and the kitchen. Peter does a one-shouldered shrug at that, which both feels, and must look weird. Tony goes to speak but gets cut off by Steve. Tony looks mildly offended for a moment, but quickly hides it.

"Look, don't mean to break your banter but the two of you need to talk" Steve says, not giving anymore context than that. Tony's eyebrows furrow as he glances back at Peter, who isn't looking up at him anymore. He's staring down at the coffee table like it's the most interesting thing all of a sudden.

"Come on kid, we'll go talk in the lab. No one will bother us there" Tony said, nodding his head towards the elevator, not bothering to press Stebe or anyone else for answers. Peter nods slightly and stands up. He walks over towards Tony, carefully stepping over Sam that sat on the floor. Gazes lingered on him as he walked over to his father figure, unnerving him just a bit. 

"Hey Mr.Stark, could you please turn your phone notifications off?" Peter asked carefully, his tone of voice uncertain. Now everyone's eyes were definitely on him, instead of being discreet about it like they were trying to do earlier. The only exception to this was Nat, pretending to not hear any of this. Tony gave Peter a worried look but didn't ask any questions, taking his phone out of his back jean pocket and presumably doing just that. Soon enough they were both going up towards the lab.

"Are you sure you're okay kid? You've seemed a bit off ever since you woke up yesterday" Tony inquired, brows furrowed in concern. Peter nodded slowly, not really focusing on Tony's words that much, too preoccupied with his own thoughts. He was paying more attention to how he would tell Tony what had happened down in the training room. There really wasn't a gentle way to lay it down for him, and he's sure Tony wouldn't appreciate him dodging all attempts to learn about what was going on.

He needed to be straight-forward with him.

The elevator door opened and on reflex, Peter stepped out just a second after, the doors behind him closing with a soft click. That gentle click made Peter feel trapped like there was no turning back now, even if there was turning back earlier either. He didn't dare look up at Tony. He heard the soft clack of footsteps stepping a bit further away.

"Okay kid, now tell me what's going on. I know I'm shit with this feelingsy stuff, but you can still tell me anything kid" Tony promises, and even though his attempt at comfort has a rather shitty approach to it, it does reassure Peter. It's just so... Tony. To anyone else this would probably be considered a bit joking or too demanding, but for Peter it serves to calm him down. When Peter looks up Tony is leaning his hip against one of the lab tables, phone now placed next to him.

Peter glances behind him at the elevator door that was shut tightly.

No turning back now.

"I tased Clint" Peter admitted with all the shame and guilt bleeding into his voice. Tony didn't even bat an eye at this information, but Peter could feel Tony's surprise, even if he hadn't reacted openly to this new found information. It's sort of a default for Peter to know what Tony's feeling because they know each other so well.

To bad it also works the other way around.

"I mean, he had it coming" Tony half-joked, reaching over for his cold cup of coffee and taking a sip from it, most likely to just punctuate his sentence. He was clearly trying to ease Peter's nerves with humor. Peter almost smiled at that, but refrained "Why did you tase him kid?"

"I thought he was the school shooter-" Peter started, and instantly any humor on Tony`s face left. Peter felt a sudden nervousness at that "I mean, I thought I was back in the school and that he was coming to get me, you know? So I just ran to the first classroom I could find and hid in it. Turns out said 'classroom' was the armorie. They were screaming at me to get out and I thought it was the shooter again. I couldn't have possibly known it was Clint, or any of the others for that matter. So I grabbed the first non-lethal thing I could find and that was the taser." Peter paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and quell the anxiety slowly rising in his chest, his eyes darting around, but never lingering in Tony's direction for too long.

It feels bizarre recounting the events of something that happened probably only an hour or so ago. It still feels too fresh of a wound to really admit any of this, to anyone.

"So when they finally stopped calling at me through the door, I relaxed for just a moment, and that's when Clint just fucking- He just- He kicked the door open and I didn't look. I just shot at him in my panic. Then when I looked back at the body, it was him" Peter said, not going into detail about anything else. 

Anything involving  _her_ death, and how it had seemed so similar in that moment.

When Peter finally found the confidence to look up at Tony, he felt his heart jump to his throat. Tony seemed so perturbed by this new-found information. It's like he had aged a whole decade in the few moments that Peter was speaking. Peter couldn't help but connect this perturbed look to the acts that he had committed, to the fact he had injured one of their teammates, their friend,  _their family._

He was dangerous to everyone that surrounded him.

"Kid, do you know what triggered this? If there was even anything that triggered it?" Tony asked carefully, and he looked so distraught that Peter couldn't hold his tongue.

Not that he would have anyways, he trusted Tony too much for that.

"When Clint's phone got a notification" Peter answered without hesitation. Sudden understanding crossed Tony's face, nodding to himself slightly as he glanced towards his phone laying face-down on the table beside him. 

"Is that why you asked me to turn notifications off earlier?" He inquired, getting a slight nod from the teen.

"Yeah, don't want what happened to Clint to happen to you" Peter replied nervously.

"Look kid, I think we really need to talk about the fact that you witnessed a flashb-" Tony started off as gently as he could, only to get cut.

"I know it was a flashback, okay? We shouldn't need to worry though, it won`t last long, I promise" Peter said, and both of them ignored the fact Peter hadn't promised that it wouldn't happen again. They both knew he had no control over that.

"Kid, that`s not how PTSD works" Tony said, and he seemed tense still. They both knew that he had some remaining PTSD from the Vulture incident, and they had both took measures to know what made Peter nervous or triggered panic attacks. Peter had never had a blatant flashback though.

"I know! But this doesn't warrant it! You know? I've handled guns hundreds of times before! Why should this be any different? It`s not like I was held captive for months in the desert, being waterboarded as punishment, or that I was mind-fucked for 70 years, forced to kill people and having nothing of my own!" Peter said, voice raising as he spoke. His voice showing his frustration and wavering slightly. Tony looked disturbed by all of this.

"Peter, it doesn't work like that. It doesn't matter what you went through, if it was a single moment or long term, what matters is that it happened, and that you have it" Tony said with such certainty, he took a couple of strides forwards before pulling his kid into a hug, surprising the other. Peter reciprocated the hug, melting into the embrace. 

"Yeah... I guess so" Peter admitted, albeit clearly not too convinced. 

"Not 'I guess so'. It's a fact Peter, okay? You shouldn't compare your experience to mine or Bucky's" Tony presses, and Peter nodded slightly, biting at his lip before pulling away, glancing up at Tony. Tony didn't seem happy at his earlier admission, but stayed quiet about it for now. They stood in a comfortable silence for a moment, "Okay Peter, do you any idea's as to how to prevent this?" Tony asks carefully, and Peter shrugs. He glances over at Tony's phone.

"I mean... maybe putting a different notification tone would work? Like how people do with calls, you know? Except instead of a song playing it's a different sound, not the usual ding of it-" Peter suggest hastily, wringing his hands together as he suggests this. Tony nods thoughtfully and steps back a bit, reaching over for his phone and grabbing at it. Instantly he gets to work on it, fingers tying quickly until the sound of a bird chirping suddenly filled the room. Peter startled, but he didn't feel the panic from earlier, didn't feel like something was about to go horribly wrong.

"That good kid?" Tony asks, looking up at him looking for any signs of panic or disassociation. Peter smiled at him reassuringly, albeit a weak smile, and nodded slightly.

"Yeah... yeah, that's perfect" Peter approved. 

"Welp, let's go and inform the others now- Okay? I'm sure they'll have a blast finding funny notification tones" Tony said with a hint of exasperation. Peter snorted.

"How much do you want to bet that Clint is gonna choose the silliest one?" Peter said, and instantly the bit of tenseness remaining seeming to dissipate. Tony rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. 

"I'm not gonna bet anything, because I agree with you" 

"Okay but like, what do you think it's gonna be? I call it being a type of bird sound, or a meme" Peter says, following Tony when he starts walking back towards the elevator. 

"I mean, it'd be ironic if he chose a Hawk" Tony guessed, shrugging.

"I mean, yeah- But basically everyone could choose something involving their superhero name, technically- I doubt that they'll choose anything with words though, since that's just to much trouble, so it's more likely that they won't" 

"Yeah- I think I'll make mine a repulsor noise, if just to scare the fuck out of people around me" 

"Tony! You can't do that-" 

"Watch me" Tony said, a smirk making it's way to his lips as they both entered the elevator, F.R.I.D.A.Y not bothering to ask where they wanted to go before going doing the level where everyone else was most likely waiting. It unnerved Peter sometimes how much they  _cared,_ because sometimes it as so intense that Peter feels like he could get whiplash from it.

Which is an ironic thought now that he thinks about it.

Peter shakes his head as that thought passes his mind, how downright dark humored that is. 

"Well, I don't exactly want to think about your phone every time you shoot a repulsor at someone- I'll think you got a notification on your phone" Peter tried to reason, only getting a scoff out of Tony.

"Weak excuse, try harder" He said cockily, getting an exasperated groan out of Peter, but they both knew he was holding back a smile. The elevator doors opened and they both stepped out at the same time, making their way towards the living room once more. Tony still looked disheveled, but now calm and collected at least. He walked with confident strides towards the room where everyone was gathered. As for Peter, he hunched in on himself in shame, walking with more a shuffled, hesitance clear. They both entered the living room, and instantly all attention was directed towards them.

"So?" Steve inquires, looking over at them. He doesn't sound demanding when he utters the single word, just impatient and worried. Peter glances towards Tony, silently asking him to take the lead. Tony gets the hint.

"Well, we learned that Peter gets triggered by the sound of the normal notification sound from phones, so we're all gonna have to change our tones" Tony said with such confidence, leaving no room for discussion. A couple people in the room got to work on changing their tone. Steve passed his phone over to Natasha who got to work changing it for him, since he didn't know how to. Peter's brows raised in surprise at how quickly everyone accepted this new fact without question.

Suddenly, multiple noises filled the room, none of them even remotely similar to that of a ding. Peter felt a smile grace his lips at that, looking around the room in marvel at how amazing his team is. Suddenly, a loud, ugly squawk filled the room and everyone halted movement, glancing over towards where the sound came from. All eyes connected to Clint, who looked smug as fuck. 

"I fucking called it" Tony suddenly blurted after a moment of silence filled the room. Peter burst into laughter, everyone else looking mildly confused at Tony's outburst. A quick 'language!' was called out, but no one paid it to any mind. 

"I recall that I called it first Mr.Stark" Peter said after his laughter calmed. Tony shrugged half-heatedly.

"Still called it" He said, only for Clint to pipe in.

"Whatever you guys called on, I don't care. I'm just happy I have a reason to annoy the shit out of anyone around me." 

"You don't need your phone for that Clint, you do that just fine by yourself" Sam interjected, getting mutual agreements around the room. Clint pouted at that.

"This is bullying, how dare you harass an injured man-" Clint said, pointing an accusing finger at Sam. Said man rolled his eyes at Clint's dramatics.

"Oh you're fine Clint- 'Tis but a flesh wound" Sam referenced, and now it was Clint's turn to roll his eyes, but he didn't fight back against that claim. Natasha got back on topic, turning over to face Peter and Tony better.

"Are there any other triggers we should know about?" Natasha inquired and suddenly everyone fell silent again, glancing over at them once more. Tony shook his head slightly, sending a fleeting glance at Peter.

"No, nothing that we know at least. This is the only one Peter knows about... Maybe it's the only one there is, only time will really tell" Tony admitted, and Natasha nodded slightly.

"Why exactly is this a trigger as well? What happened?" Steve suddenly asked, and Peter felt his heart drop. He really didn't want to tell them. He didn't want them to think differently of him afterward, knowing what he had done and how he got her killed. They didn't even know about Gwen or Uncle Ben, they couldn't know about this either. Of course, they knew that Ben was dead and the basis of what happened, but that's all.

They don't know that he had his powers when Ben died, don't know that he could have done something,  _anything._ They don't know about Gwen falling, how even though he caught her on time, it wasn't enough. 

May was an accident, nothing involving Peter in the slightest. She had been home from work after an exhausting day at work and working someone else's shift, if only to get enough money to pay rent. In her exhaustion, she hadn't noticed the bus coming straight for her.

Doesn't change the fact that Peter thought of the What-If's, but that can't be helped. 

Then there's Angela, how his phone got a notification at just the wrong time, how he hadn't been able to keep her awake long enough, or stop the blood from flowing out so quickly.  _How his web shooter jammed in that exact moment-_

_How the intercom closed when he was being wheeled out of the school._

Peter sucked in a breath.

"I'm not telling you guys" He said, his tone showing that he wasn't budging on this. Everyone fell silent for a moment, all contemplating his words. Every single one of them trusted each other with their lives, and Peter trusted them with his, just like how they trusted him with theirs. It was admittedly a bit strange to not admit something of this sort to them.

This was different though, it wasn't so much about trust as it was about Peter's own failure.

"Okay" Sam finally piped up, smiling at Peter reassuringly "You don't have to tell us if you don't feel ready to" he continued, getting agreements from everyone in the room. Peter felt his shoulder's slump in relief, a sigh passing his lips. 

"But you need to tell us if you find anything else that triggers you, okay? You don't need to tell us why it triggers you if you don't want to, but it'll be in everyone best interest if you tell us what it is, okay?" Sam said, looking at Peter for confirmation.

"Of course I'll tell you guys, don't worry about that... I don't want something like that happening again" Peter said, sending a fleeting glance towards Clint, feeling guilt weigh heavy on his chest. Clint smiled at him, and Peter couldn't see any faked compassion behind that smile. An awkward silence settled in the room, not one really knowing how to end this conversation. 

"Welp! Come here kid, sit on the couch and have some more pastries, you deserve them" Clint suddenly piped up, patting the couch to urge Peter forward as though he were a dog. Everyone seeming to snap out of the bubble that had surrounded them all. Peter nodded, making his way towards the couch and sat on the middle cushion where Clint's feet were but moments ago. Said man stretched his legs again, feet now laying on Peter's lap as he reached forward for another cookie.

Tony glanced behind him towards the elevator, seemingly contemplating on staying here or going back to the lab to do some work. Peter felt his heart leap a bit at that, not wanting Tony to leave just yet. When Tony glanced back into the living room, he caught Peter's pleading gaze. The man smiled at the teen before making his way deeper into the Common's, plopping down on one of the stray bean bags laying around and pulling out his phone.

As Peter glanced around and his weird family, he felt a sort of lightness he hasn't felt in a while. He took note of how Steve went back to sketching, or how Sam continued reading one of his psychology books. How Clint ate most of the cookies on the coffee table before them. He felt a sort of fondness swell in his chest. 

Peter leaned forward and reached for another cookie, feeling the best he has since the attack. 

An hour or so had passed when Peter could feel hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach. Peter frowned slightly, raising a brow. He knows that cookies aren't the most sustainable food source, but he would have expected the 20 or so cookies he had eaten to last longer than that.

Damn his metabolism.

Peter carefully moved Clint's feet off his lap, getting a questioning look from the hero. Peter mouthed 'food' to him, getting an understanding nod from him. As he stepped out of the living room towards the kitchen, no one really payed his leave any mind, which he was grateful for. The last thing he wanted after this eventful day was for more attention to be on him. 

As he entered the kitchen with a mission, he found Bucky in an apron flipping through a recipe book. The super-soldier instantly noticed the teens presence, which really wasn't a surprise. No matter in what setting or where they were, Bucky was always hyper vigilante. 

"Hey Bucky, what are you doing here? Don't you and Steve have a kitchen on your floor?" Peter asked, making his way towards the fridge to get something to eat that wasn't fruit, since it just made you hungrier.

"Yeah, but I wanted to be closer to him..." Bucky admitted, almost shy admitting it. Peter made the connection that this must be because of the nightmare he had the night before. Peter nodded slightly, not pushing for any details.

"Okay then, what are you making?" He asked, closing the fridge and making his way towards the cabinets, pulling out a granola bar. It wouldn't even last him 30 minutes, but whatever. He opened the wrapper and took a large bite out of it.

"I'm still looking, but I'm thinking of making some cupcakes" Bucky responded, flipping through the recipe book still, seeming so focused. Bucky wasn't really someone who liked cooking, but he adored baking for some reason, as for Sam, it's the complete opposite. Peter suspects it's because they low-key despise each other, but it's only speculation.

"Can I join you?" Peter asked, and Bucky looked over at him, seeming a bit surprised at his sudden request. Peter can't really blame him though, he had never really shown much interest in baking. Just recently though he had been going to Ned's sometimes, and more often than not they ended up making themselves pastries. 

"Of course you can kid, I don't have any other aprons here though. And I really wouldn't suggest touching Sam's" Bucky said, nose wrinkling up at thought of it. Peter chuckled and shook his head.

"It's fine, I don't need any" The teen reassured, getting a nod out of Bucky. 

"Okay, how do you feel about making chocolate cupcakes with some cream cheese frosting?" Bucky inquired, glancing over a Peter for confirmation. It wasn't even a question for him though.

"Of course! Chocolate is fucking awesome-" Peter said, get a chuckle from the soldier.

"Don't let my boyfriend hear you using that language" Bucky joked, winking at Peter. Said teen stuck his tongue out at him.

"Oh hush-" Peter retaliated "Anyways, what ingredients do we need?" Peter inquired. Bucky turned his gaze back down to the page, finger pointing at what Peter assumed to be the ingredients.

"Okay, we need some flour" Bucky said, glancing over at Peter who was already reaching into the baking cabinet.

"All-Purpose or Baking flour?" 

"All-Purpose, okay, next we need some unsweetened cocoa powder, some baking soda, pure vanilla extract, some confectioners sugar and normal sugar" Bucky said, glancing over at Peter. The teen was taking out all those ingredients while Bucky reached over and grabbed the salt and in the cabinet above him where all the spices were, not bothering to call it out.

"Okay kid, can you go get some milk, sour cream and butter from the fridge please?"

"On it!" Peter replied enthusiastically, placing everything a bit randomly on the table that Bucky was facing, but there was so much stuff that the ex-assassin couldn't really blame him for being a bit hasty. Bucky walked over and carefully arranged it all while Peter rummaged through the fridge, taking out everything that Bucky had requested and placing it on the table, this time in a more orderly fashion.

"Okay then, anything else we need?" Peter asked, and Bucky raised a brow at him.

"Bowls, wooden spoons, measuring cups and measuring spoons" Bucky said, pointedly looking down at the table where no tools lay. Peter followed his gaze and flushed slightly, clearly a bit embarrassed. Bucky chuckled and shook his head, leaning down and reaching under the table into the cabinet, getting out the large bowls while Peter went to get the measuring equipment without being asked.

Soon enough they had everything they need to make the cupcakes. The recipe book stood in the middle so they could both read it.

Bucky reached over for the measuring cups while Peter opened the bag of flour for him, both of them working in sink without really needing to talk to each other.

"Anyways, wanna tell me what happened earlier? I wasn't there but Steve texted me about the notification thing... Don't worry, I changed my tone as well" Bucky reassured. Peter glanced over at Bucky and frowned slightly, but the man wasn't even looking at him.

"I just... I tased Clint because of a flashback I had. I feel really bad about it, you know? He's my teammate and friend, he should be able to trust me" Peter said, pushing the bag of flour towards Bucky as he scooped 2 cups and a half of it into a large bowl. As he did this, Bucky seemed contemplative, so Peter stood in silence, not knowing if Bucky wanted him to continue or if Bucky has his own 2 cents to add to this.

"You know, I've punched Steve more times than I can count, even after I broke out of my 'programming'." Bucky admitted as he finished putting in the flour, passing the measuring cups over to Peter, reaching over for the cocoa powder that was on his side of the table.

"You have?" Peter asked,  bit shocked at this notion. It wasn't really surprising per say, but more so that it happened even after he broke out of it.

"Yeah, a bunch of times actually. Last time it happened was probably two weeks ago when I woke up from a nightmare. I just cocked him right in the face before realizing that I wasn't in the facility anymore" Bucky said, his expression solemn as he recounted this to Peter. Bucky passed over to powdered cocoa and Peter went to put in the half-cup of it that was needed.

"That... really sucks" Peter said, not really knowing what to say to that. Bucky nodded seriously at that.

"Yeah, it does. I feel guilty about it, and sometimes I feel like it's my fault." Bucky said, but Peter instantly interjected, dropping the cocoa in the mix, sending a slight puff of powder in the air.

"It isn't your fault Bucky, you know that right?" Peter said, and said man nodded at that, reaching over for the bag of baking soda.

"I know kid, which means it isn't your fault that Clint got hurt, okay? If it isn't my fault that Steve gets punched by me at least once a month, then it's not your fault that Clint got tased" Bucky said, looking at Peter with a steely gaze as he passed the baking soda to him. Peter frowned, opening the cap of the baking soda "Trauma is trauma, and sometimes people around you will get hurt because of what you went through, but trust me when I say they'll be with you 'till the end of the line".

Peter paused at that, feeling a weight to those last words that Bucky uttered, but he didn't comment on it. He took a teaspoon of baking soda and plopped it in the mix. He contemplated what Bucky had just said. He knows that he has a point. He hadn't wanted to hurt Clint, and he definitely didn't do it on purpose. He could even argue that it was in self-defense, similar to how Bucky sometimes hurt Steve without meaning to, just wanting to leave the place he had been imprisoned in for 70 years.

It didn't make it right to hurt them, but it's not like they wanted to. In the end it was inevitable that someone would get hurt because of it, and just like Bucky said, they would stick around, because they all care for each other like family. 

"Yeah... I get it" Peter said. Sure, his self-loathing hadn't disappeared into thin air, his guilt didn't weigh any less either, but that's okay, because that's not what Bucky is asking of him. Bucky's telling him that it's okay to be like this, and that even though they feel bad about it, they understand that it isn't their fault for being like this.

It isn't their fault that the people around them get hurt because of stuff they themselves went through by the fault of other people.

Bucky searched Peter's expression for a moment, seeming to look for something in his eyes. A couple seconds of silence passed, and Bucky seems to have found what he was looking for, because he smiled down at the teen.

"Perfect kid, glad you understand. That's something that took me a couple years to come to terms with... Now pass me the measuring cups and the salt" Bucky said, and Peter did so without complaint, the heavy conversation they just had slowly inching away from his direct conscious. 

"Can I mix it afterwards?" He asks while Bucky puts in a half of a teaspoon of salt. Peter quickly reaches over and grabs at one of the wooden spoons. 

"Shouldn't you use a whisk?" Bucky asks, looking over at the wooden spoon and then back to the whisk-less table.

"I hate the sound of metal against metal" Peter explains simply, and Bucky nods in understanding at that. Peter instantly gets to mixing the powdered mix, being careful to not jostle his shoulder, using the other arm to mix while his injured arm holds onto the bowl instead. While he does this Bucky gets to work on using the butter and sugar bowl. Peter must have been mixing with a bit too much enthusiasm, because suddenly some of the powder flies up, instantly latching onto his science shirt. Peter squeals out in shock, Bucky's head instantly snapping towards him. 

Suddenly, Bucky is laughing at him, holding a cup butter in his hand. Peter pouts over at Bucky, but a smile is on his lips.

"How dare you laugh at me! I liked this shirt as well-" Peter complains dramatically, only serving to make Bucky laugh more, shaking his head at the boy.

"Well, maybe you should've worn an apron" 

"Well, maybe you didn't want me wearing something of Sam's because it repulses you" Peter replies sassily. Bucky grins over at the teen, shaking his head as he smacks the cup of butter against the bowl, the butter falling into it with a strange plopping sound mixed with a squishy sound. They both laugh.

"We're a mess" Peter utters, turning back towards his powdered mix and continuing to mix it, more gently this time. Bucky nods at that.

"I mean, I think that goes without question" Bucky admits, reaching over for the bag of sugar and inching it towards himself. He doesn't open it yet though. He starts pulling his long hair up, using his right hand to hold onto the messy ponytail while his metal arm to tie the elastic tightly at the top of his head. Peter smiles at him.

"You look nice in a ponytail" Peter compliments without really thinking. Bucky smiles shyly at him.

"Thanks kid-" Bucky says, nodding slightly to himself before reaching for the sugar and opening the bag, reaching in it with a measuring cup. Peter leans his bowl to the side to show Bucky.

"Is this good enough?" Peter asked, and Bucky looks over at it before nodding slightly, putting the first cup of sugar in the bowl, reaching back in the bag to put in a second cup of it. Peter nods back awkwardly, continuing to mix it since he doesn't really know what else to do in the meantime. When Bucky finishes with the sugar, he reaches across Peter and grabs at the box of eggs, retreating back to his own spot. As he does so he smacks Peter in the face with the box, stunning them both for a second.

Peter snorted, shaking his head.

"Like I said, we're a mess" Peter said as Bucky retracts the box of eggs and nods along to that, taking out four eggs and closing the box again. "Next time, ask me to grab something- I'm just here mixing my life away, you know? Might as well myself useful-" 

"I mean, you're the one who volunteered to mix stuff, so you better mix you're damn life away" Bucky joked as he cracked an egg with a single hand without any struggle. Peter reached for an egg and cracked it carefully, granted not as gracefully as the soldier, since the eggshells threaten to fall into the mix when he lets the insides spill with the rest of it. They both crack another egg and then Bucky's mixing it with a wooden spoon. While a normal person would struggle, Bucky is doing pretty well.

Peter chances a glance at the recipe, taking notice that it says to mix the eggs in one at a time. He glances over at Bucky mixing it all and bites his lip.

"Uh, Bucky, we made a mistake" Peter says hesitantly, and Bucky continues mixing, eyebrows furrowing as he glances over at Peter.

"What is it?"

"We were supposed to mix them all in one at a time..." He pointed out, and Bucky stops mixing for a moment. He glances down at the mix with a look of betrayal in his eyes, like it's the eggs fault for all going in at the same time. Peter burst into laughter, hand clamping down on the table as he hunches forward. Bucky turns to look at him with a confused stare.

"T-t-the look on y-your face!" Peter manages out through his laughter "U-utter betrayal!" He laughs, and Bucky just pouts slightly, looking down at the bowl sadly before sighing and continuing to mix with a slight grumble, only making Peter laugh harder.

"Whatever, we'll just have to deal with the fact that all of the eggs decided to gang up" Bucky says, voice disgruntled at the fact they didn't follow through with it like it was written. Peter finally stops laughing and reaches over for the cupcake pans to prepare them.

As Peter reaches for the cupcake wrappers, Steve walks into the room. He glances over at the two, taking in Peter's messy shirt and Bucky's indignant expression. Steve's lips instantly perse slightly, but a smile inches on his expression.

"What are you two doing?" Steve asks, amusement in his tone as he walks closer to the two. Peter goes to speak up, but Bucky beats him to it.

"Beating these eggs to a pulp and eating them as revenge" Bucky answers menacingly, getting a fond chuckle out of his boyfriend. Peter almost feels like looking away, with how much adoration and love there is in Steve's expression. 

"Is that so? They must have done something horrible to deserve such treatment" Steve says with a hint of teasing to his tone, but Bucky doesn't seem to be paying that any mind. Steve walks forward and pecks Bucky's cheek, and instantly Bucky's bitter demeanor fades just a bit. He stops mixing for a moment and turns to the side a bit, pecking his boyfriend on the lips quickly. 

Peter smiles at the two and turns his gaze back to the cupcake holder, starting to put the wrappers in it. They had three cupcake holders, two of them for 32 miniature cupcakes while the other is for a more average since, fitting 12. Peter glances back at them and at this point Bucky is back to mixing with a slightly irked expression, granted a lot better than earlier, while Steve looks at him fondly.

"So Steve, what did you come to get?" Peter asks, seemingly breaking Steve out of his trance. Steve glanced over at Peter like he just noticed that Peter was there, which really wouldn't be too surprising at this point. You know, when they that love is blind, Peter didn't expect it to be so literate-

"Oh, just came to get a snack" Steve admits, scratching the back of his neck before he goes over and reaches for the fruit basket, snatching two bananas from it and instantly Peter chuckles at that. Steve glances over at him confusion.

"What?" He asks, looking down at the two bananas in his hand. Peter shakes his head.

"Nothing, just thought of something" Peter said and turns back to continue putting in the wrappers. At this point Bucky has topped taking his frustration out on the eggs and has moved on to putting in the sour cream in it. Steve nods skeptically at Peter before kissing Bucky's cheek again.

"Love you" Steve says, starting to walk back towards the living room. Bucky glances back at Steve, a smile slowly gracing his lips as he goes to leave.

"Love you too babe" Bucky calls out. Steve smiles at him and exits the kitchen, seemingly going back to doing some drawing. Peter glances over at Bucky and raises a brow.

"You're so gay" Peter says bluntly, and Bucky scoffs at that.

"Yeah, but what's new? Also, you're not any better than I am" Bucky counters, turning back to his back and scooping the exact measurements of sour cream into the mix.

"Well, you're 100% gay, I'm Pansexual, so I'm like... between 12.5 percent of a gay and 20% of a gay" Peter says, and Bucky sighs in exasperation at that.

"I can't believe you did the math-" Bucky grumbles, and Peter grins at him. They stay in comfortable silence, Bucky preparing the mixture, mixing the wet one with the powders the teen had been handling earlier. He does this while Peter finishes up the wrappers. 

"Welp, I'm done" Peter says, and Bucky nods slightly at that.

"I am as well" He says, and Peter looks over in mild surprise and his finished mixture. Had it really taken him that long to put in wrappers? "What do you say we split the mixture and start pouring it in?" Bucky suggests, and Peter nods enthusiastically at that. While Bucky pours some into two measuring cups to make the process easier, Peter speaks up.

"Just warning you, I'm probably gonna be absolutely terrible at this" He warns.

"Oh don't worry kid, you're bound to be horrible at this you're first dozen tries" Bucky reassures, waving his metal hand in the air to show that it's fine. Bucky hands him a measuring cup and directs Peter to start with the bigger ones, since those are easier to start with while he works on the miniature ones.

The super-soldier is working quickly, already having done about half of the miniature ones while Peter is only on his fourth large one. Granted, he had over-filled the first one and had worked awhile to transfer some of that to the second one. Bucky had reassured him that it was fine, but he had been determined.

They end up using all their mixture with these three batches, which Peter is happy about since he doesn't thing he ever wants to fill up cupcakes ever again in his lifetime. It's so messy (at least on his part) and hard to control. The teen dips his finger into the mostly empty bowl and drags his fingers along the edge of it, licking at the access on his finger. He hums and grins at Bucky.

"These are gonna be amazing-" He uttered and reaches his fingers to get his finger, only for Bucky to slap his hand away gently.

"No, you'll get salmonella" Bucky says, glaring down Peter. Peter glares up at him and lunges for the bowl, dragging his finger in it just before Bucky snatches it away. He holds the bowl protectively to his chest, smearing his apron with a bit of the mixture, glaring at Peter's smug look as he licks the chocolate off his finger. Peter goes over to wash his hands under the sink. Bucky rolls his eyes and puts the bowl in the sink. He goes over to the cupcake pans to put them in the oven, but when he goes to do so he realizes something.

"Peter? You didn't preheat the stove?" Bucky asked, eyes staring right at the stove as he says this.

"No? Was I supposed to?" He asks, getting a heavy sigh out of Bucky.

"We'll have to wait a couple of minutes then for it to preheat" He says, placing the metal tray on the stove as he leans forward and presses the 'Bake' button on the stove. Peter sighs and plops down on the kitchen floor, sitting down criss-cross applesauce with the grace of an elephant. Bucky looks over at him, raising a brow but not questioning it. He walks over to Peter and sits across from him on the floor aswell, albeit more gracefully than Peter had. 

"So... What do we do now?" Peter asks, and Bucky shrugs slightly.

"We wait to put the cupcakes in. I already have some leftover frosting, so we can use that to put on the cupcakes later" Bucky says, and Peter nods slightly.

"Soooo... I'm hungry..." Peter said awkwardly, Bucky raised a brow at him.

"Then why don't you get something to eat?"

"Because it's so far awwwaaaayyy" Peter whines, getting a chuckle out of Bucky.

"I don't think I've ever heard you say that. Usually, you would just use your webs to get it." Bucky comments offhandedly. Peter pauses at that, feeling a sort of dread come along with that sentence that he doesn't really comprehend for a moment.

"Uh... yeah, they jammed awhile back, so I need to fix them" Peter says, scratching at the back of his neck nervously. He doesn't really know why the idea of fixing them makes him so nervous, but he has an idea as to why. 

He's having a good time though, so he won't dwell on it now.

"I see" Bucky says, apparently getting the hint to not push for more details. There's a high pitched ding from the stove, to high to get it mixed up with a phone notification. Bucky stands up and quickly maneuvers around, sliding all of the cupcakes pans in it and setting a timer for 20 minutes. Bucky sits back on the floor where he was before.

"Who's your favorite Avenger?" Peter suddenly blurts out, and Bucky gives him one of those  _looks._

"I'm afraid my opinion will be biased, considering one of them is my boyfriend" Bucky says, clearly mocking him a bit considering his tone of voice.

"I knooowwww, but why would he be your favorite?" He pushes, trying to make conversation so they don't just sit on the kitchen floor in an awkward silence, which is honestly such a sad mental image.

"Like I said, biased opinion on my part" Bucky counters, not budging. Peterletss out an annoyed huff. Peter almost wants to ask him what his nightmare was about, but he holds his tongue. Peter pats at his pockets to google questions to ask friends, only to find nothing there. Peter feels a moment of panic at not having his phone, before remembering that he left it on his desk this morning. Peter quickly pushes his phone away from his mind.

"Did you have any pets growing up?" Peter asks without really thinking. When Bucky falls silent for a moment, Peter almost wants to take the question back and ask another one, scared he brought up some bad memories, but Bucky beats him to it.

"Yeah. Steve had a cat for awhile when he was a teen, but then we learned that the cat kept setting off his asthma since the cat had such long fur and shed a lot more than normal cats. They ended up selling it. Steve was so sad about it that I ended up just getting myself a dog. My parents were so mad at me, but when they saw how happy it made Steve they couldn't make themselves try to give it away. We basically co-parented it, Steve and I" Bucky said, eyes turning a bit glassy as he thought back on those days that must seem so far away for him.

"What was their name?" Peter inquires, and Bucky stops for a moment, staring down at the tiled floor like the question really stumped him.

"Lua... That was her name" Bucky finally says after a moment of hesitance. He looks up from the tiled floor and up at Peter, seeming to have been brought out of that reminiscing haze. "What about you? Did you ever have any pets?"

"No, I never got any, doesn't mean I didn't try though. Me and my Uncle tried so hard to get Aunt May to agree to it, and in the end we finally all agreed to get one next Christmas. Before Christmas came through, Uncle Ben died, so because of financial issues we never got one" Peter said, feeling a slight twinge of sadness when he uttered his Aunt's and Uncle's name. It was nothing like the pain it gave before, but still noticeable. He faintly wonders if it will ever go away.

"Well, maybe you can ask Tony if you can get one?" Bucky suggested.

"Pft, you think I haven't already tried? He just keeps insisting he's got enough with one puppy in the house" Peter says, gesturing to himself.

"He's just too weak to handle two, look, I handled Lua and Steve at the same time, and we all know Steve was a self-sacrificing ass" Bucky half-joked, tone showing that bit of saltiness that always shined through when he mentions Steve's selflessness and self-sacrificing tendencies, damn the consequences. 

The timer on the stove dinged once again and this time the both of them stood up, Bucky going in the direction of the fridge while Peter went to take out the cupcakes that had risen. After he put on some oven mitts, the teen slipped them out of the stove. Peter had filled in had some that were a bit too small and some that were touching each other since they had overflowed so much, but in general they seemed pretty good. Peter placed them all on the stove carefully.

While they waited for them to cool, Bucky prepared the cream cheese icing. A couple of minutes later they had slipped the cupcakes out. (And sadly one had died by the hands of Peter, crumbling when he accidentally crushed it in his hand when he tried to slip it out of the cupcake pan. R.I.P cupcake). 

"Here, this is your weapon. Use it wisely" Bucky said, handing Peter a plastic bag with frosting. Peter took it before saluting, getting a chuckle out of Bucky. They both got to work on it, Bucky working strategically while Peter ate more of the frosting than he really put on the cupcakes.

"Stop eating it and start putting some on the cupcakes you thief!" Bucky said and suddenly held out his own plastic bag, putting some frosting on Peter's nose. Peter went cross-eyed, looking at the white frosting on the tip of his nose. Without uttering a word, Peter stuck his tongue out and tried to lick some off, only getting a long groan from the super soldier.

"I can't believe you" He said, shaking his head before getting back to work. Peter grinned and left the frosting on his nose as he went back to work, this time focusing more on actually putting the icing on the cupcakes instead of in his mouth. They finished soon enough (Bucky doing most of them) and Bucky placed them all on a plate to the side, ready to be eaten by the others. He placed some in a toppleware to bring to his and Steve's floor. Peter cleaned himself up, washing his hands and wiping the icing off of his nose. As Bucky was folding up his apron, Peter pipped up.

"Hey uh... Bucky, can we do this again some time?" Peter asked, voice gaining a more timid tone to it. Baking with him had helped a lot, especially with all the stress from earlier that day. Bucky glanced over at him and smiled slightly, nodding.

"Of course kid, any time of day or night, if you want to do this just ask Friday to come and get me, or do so yourself, okay? Don't feel shy to ask" Bucky said, nodding at him. Peter grinned back at the soldier, nodding slightly. Just as he went to thank the man, F.R.I.D.A.Y cut him off.

"Dinner's ready, Sam is asking for everyone to be at the table in 5 minutes or no one gets the garlic  bread" They said. Peter thanks the AI before looking over at Bucky and grinning slightly.

"Well, you heard the man, we better get to the table to get some of his famous garlic bread" Peter said excitedly, only getting a grumble from Bucky, something along the lines of 'his garlic bread isn't even that good' or something of the sort. Peter ignored him and grabbed at his metal hand, dragging him to get to dinner on time.

Peter will make sure to thank him later for everything, but for now, they shouldn't have to worry about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the wait guys! This is... so fucking long compared to the others, and most of it is baking >-> Oops?
> 
> Please tell me what you think and if you liked it! I love reading and replying to comments! I understand it's different from the other chapters, but I'm basically still setting things up for the future... Hope you guys liked it! =D


	5. On The News

Peter sighs to himself as he walks outside of his bathroom, mouth tasting like a crappy orange, the weird texture still sticking to the inside of his mouth. He couldn't use peppermint toothpaste ever since the bite, because the one time he did it turned out absolutely horribly... Now he was stuck with a lot of off-brand toothpaste. It's been two days since the time he cooked with Bucky and it's gone mostly without event. His shoulder is almost completely healed by this point, barely even sore.

The teen glances at his desk once more, like he does every morning ever since he woke up after the attack. The web shooters and his phone laying there, still untouched. When Peter had woken up yesterday, his phone had run out of all charge.

He doesn't know why, but it had been such a relief. 

He decides he doesn't want to know why.

Peter made his way towards the kitchen like he did most mornings, looking for a snack to eat. His metabolism doesn't calm, not even in his sleep, so more often than not he woke up, he was ravenous. As he enters the kitchen, he quickly notices the lack of people that usually lounge around, and he briefly wonders if they're out sparring or even out on a mission.

"Hey Friday, where is everyone?" He asks the AI as he inched towards the cabinets to get himself a bowl of cereal.

"They are up to their own devices. Most of them have left to tower to do their own thing" F.R.I.D.A.Y replied, and it's only then that Peter looks at the time and realises that it is a bit later than usual, since it's 11 Pm. Especially since it's a Sunday, people tend to go their separate ways and do their own thing, usually going out and taking a fresh of breath air.

"Thanks Fri" Peter thanks and pulls out a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He quickly gets to work making himself a bowl of cereal. Usually, when the others are there, he'd pour the milk before the cereal just to annoy the fuck out of them, but since he's currently alone, he does it the proper way. Once he finishes preparing the bowl of cereal, he quickly snags a spoon from one of the cabinets and makes his way to the living room.

The teen makes his way towards the couch and sits down lazily on it, crossing his legs. He places his cereal bowl down on the coffee table before reaching for the remote that lays on the other end of the couch. He quickly snags it before pushing himself up in a sitting position. He grabs at his cereal bowl and places it on his lap, taking a bite from it before turning on the TV. 

The news is on TV.

Just as Peter goes to change the channel he catches the familiar name of his school on the screen. 

Peter freezes up instantly, not being able to will himself change channels. He felt the light mood from earlier being replaced by a more uneasy feeling. Peter carefully puts the remote on the table in front of him, along with his bowl of cereal, all hunger long forgotten now.

A foreboding feeling clutched at his heart, suddenly perturbed by all this.

It didn't feel real.

This didn't feel real.

"14 people died in Midtown School last Thursday, 3 of them personnel while the others are students. There were also 19 injured, some people have-"

Peter briefly wonders if he knows the other 13 casualties.

He selfishly hopes not.

"-was what the survivors commented on. The shooter was a 14-year-old girl that attended this school. She shot herself the moment medics and police arrived at the scene. Her parents claim that they never saw this coming. Police are doing research into what caused this sudden outburst. Here we will represent all of the victims lost on screen" The reporter said.

Then pictures started flashing on screen for a couple second, names written under it.

So far, he knew 5 of them. 5 people he has met briefly throughout his years of high school, all dead. he recognised the others faces, and with every new face, he stared at the name, trying to burn the memory of their faces and names into his mind.

They deserved that much.

It was in that moment that Bruce walked into the room, book gripped in his hand and hair tousled and messy. Peter didn't even spare a glance at him, waiting for Angela's face to appear on the screen before him. He stared at it intensely, willing the tears away from his eyes to get a good look at every character appearing on screen.

He couldn't afford to not know one of them.

He needed to know about everyone he had let down, every single person he had let down.

Bruce looked at Peter's concentrated face for a moment in confusion before looking at the screen, his eyes growing wide in fear as he suddenly lunged forward for the remote that Peter had placed back on the coffee table. Peter flailed his arms, reaching for the remote as tears suddenly sprung to his eyes.

_Bruce can't take this away from him- He needs to **know.**_

The scientist was too quick for him though. The moment his hand laid on the remote, the TV suddenly shut off, only displaying a screen of black. 

" _NO!"_ Peter screeched, reaching for the remote as tears went down his face. He couldn't get to it with Bruce getting hurt, especially since he didn't have his web-shooters on.

He didn't have the confidence to put them on.

He was too scared to put them on again.

Bruce looked down at Peter, eyes wide out of shock at his sudden outburst. Bruce looked behind him, silently hoping that maybe someone else would have heard his desperate scream, would come running to help him. 

But alas, no one arrived.

 Bruce put the remote down on the floor next to the couch, placing his book next to it. He started reaching over for Peter, whose eyes were wild and dilated, lower lip shaking.

Peter felt the familiar panic grip at his chest, a sense of hopelessness filling his heart as he stared up at Bruce, silently praying for him to give him the remote, the turn the channel back on. He just wanted him to do  _something._

Instead, when Peter realised he wouldn't do any of that, he choked softly and looked back at the black screen, not daring to look at Bruce for any longer.

When he faced the screen though, all Peter saw was his own face staring back at him.

And that was almost worst.

"It's my fault, It's my fault they're all dead" The teen suddenly uttered, a voice crack within the middle of the sentence showing all the raw emotion he was feeling. Bruce looked on at him with slight horror. The scientist awkwardly shuffled his feet for a moment, as though hesitating to sit next to Peter or to just keep standing.

"Peter no- None of that was your fault" Bruce said, and his voice held some nervousness, his hands wringing together as he stared at Peter intently.

"I couldn't- I couldn't do anything to help them- I'm Spider-Man! I've saved countless of people, and when it counts most, I couldn't-" Peter huffed, his voice lowering to a distraught whisper "I couldn't save anyone" 

Unexpectedly, Bruce stayed silent for a moment, his eyes seeming to have aged a couple decades within the last few minutes that Peter has been talking. He stared at Peter for a moment, sighing softly and shaking his head. He glanced fleetingly at the TV before turning on his heel and going to walk out, hesitation for a moment, gaze falling back on Peter before finally exiting the living room.

Peter stared down at the floor, eyebrows scrunched together, tears slowly fading as he tried to blank his mind, but to no avail. Why had Bruce left so abruptly? Peter decided to not think about it too much.

Maybe he finally realised it truly was his fault.

Peter shook that thought away the moment it appeared. His teammates weren't like that, they didn't put blame on someone when people ended up dying. Sometimes Peter had trouble convincing himself of that though.

Even if the blame was warranted.

Peter stayed unmoving for what felt like an eternity, but then there was the soft shuffle of footsteps approaching and Peter felt his blood run cold. He jerked himself onto the couch, at least trying to pretend nonchalance. The others would ask questions if they saw him so out of it. His face was red and his hands were shaking a bit from nerves, and his position was bordering on strange. He looked the opposite of relaxed.

"Calm down Peter, it's just me" Bruce piped up, voice soft, almost bordering on a whisper. He appeared with two mugs, steam moving up before evaporating into the air. Peter glanced up at the scientist, feeling relieved. At least Bruce knew why he wasn't feeling so great, at least Bruce was the only familiar face he had seen all day. 

Bruce advanced towards him, holding out the mug towards Peter. The teen looked down at the mug for a moment before smiling weakly, albeit a bit confused. He reached out with shaky hands and gripped at the handle, other hand cupping at the side of the mug in an attempt to not spill any. He pulled it closer to him, glancing down at its content.

Hot chocolate, huh.

Bruce sat down next to him, blowing into his own mug of tea, not really sparing a glance at his teammate before taking a sip of his leaf water. Peter glanced at him suspiciously before slowly sipping at his own hot chocolate, holding back a wince when the hot liquid burned his tongue a bit. 

Peter isn't sure how long they sat like that, sipping at their drinks in silence. Eventually, Peter just let himself enjoy the hot chocolate, trying to chase away the intrusive thoughts. With Bruce sitting next to him though, seeming calmer than ever, it felt easier to chase them away. It was easier with the two of them simply being content within the presence of each other, even if they weren't talking.

Once he finished about two-thirds of his cup, he set it down on the coffee table, eyes drooping as he slumped back against the couch. He closed is eyes, letting out a gentle sigh, letting himself drift off.

Peter woke up on a chair at a dinner table, people with blank faces all staring down at their plates. He chanced a glance at all of them, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to recognise who they were, except they didn't seem to have any defining features to them. 

"Where is she?" Came a desperate voice, and Peter looked over to see a little kid, but he couldn't pin point whether it was a girl or a boy. "Why isn't she coming back home?!" They called out to the people at the dinner table.

"Because," Someone started, and slowly, everyone turned towards Peter, who slowly felt a rush of cold air settle in the air around them "He failed us" They said, and then Peter knew.

This had to be Angela's family.

He felt dread and shame flush through his whole body in that moment, and he slumped in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. Just as he went to speak up, the chair suddenly disappeared under him.

Then he was falling.

And falling.

_falling_

Peter gasped and reached his hands up on reflex, reaching out as he pointed his web shooters towards the top of the black hole.

But it jammed.

That's when the terror set in.

He felt none of the thrill he usually felt when he went web swinging, none of that joy and exhilaration and he swung around Queens, sometimes purposefully letting himself go and falling until he caught himself once the fear started setting in.

But now, it was pure, unadulterated fear. 

Then he slammed against the bottom of the darkness, and he felt mild pain, but not as much as would be expected after falling from so high. 

Then, darkness

Peter opened his eyes quickly, his heart beating frantically. He didn't sit up quickly or move much, just taking in his surroundings. The light that shone in the living room being a nice comfort. It wasn't burning his eyes like the cafeteria lights did, it was just soothing.

Peter wondered it he would ever be able to enter that cafeteria ever again. 

He wasn't sure.

He quickly let his thoughts drift to something else, pushing that further back in his mind, trying to push the nightmare with it. He glance over to the other end of the couch and found Bruce still sitting there, reading a book. His hair was still sticking out in random directions, and his glasses had slid lower down his nose, but he seemed calm and content. 

Bruce must've felt someone's eyes on him, because he chanced a quick glance at the teen. He sent him a soft smile before pushing up his glasses as he straightened his posture.

"You sleep well?" He inquired softly, lacking that usual anxious voice he usually had. 

"Yeah" Peter lied easily, but he chanced a quick smile at the scientist, because he was already feeling better in the man's presence. Bruce nodded slightly and went to go back to reading his book. Peter hummed softly, smiling slightly as he closed his eyes once more.

The darkness didn't scare him as much now.

Simply having his team mate by his side made him feel safer. 

They didn't have to talk about their issues, or the nightmares that Peter had. The burdens he has carried with him every day. He doesn't dare mention how the burdens are starting to get heavier and heavier.

They didn't have to talk about the darkness that was slowly clawing it's way towards Peter, sinking in further and further.

They didn't have to talk about the notifications.

The guilt that was eating him up inside. 

The fact that he craved to know about the other deceased, yet tried so hard to stay away from any thoughts of it.

It doesn't matter now though.

Because for now, they can simply find comfort in each others presence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, it's been so long since I've updated this. I had more than half of this written but never got to writing it again. I just got so demotivated after writing the last chapter and took a long break.
> 
> To be fair, I did take a long break from writing in general. I still wrote, I just didn't post any of it ^^;
> 
> Now I'm back though! ^^
> 
> Please tell me what you think of this chapter! I love reading comments! =D

**Author's Note:**

> This will be multi-chapter, and honestly we're in for a fucking doosy-
> 
> Also now I have a writing schedule! =D
> 
> So guys, please leave a comment! I love reading and replying to them! =3 <3


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